


All I want for Christmas is you

by jarofactonbell



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, M/M, have a christmas themed fic and a changjin on top of it, so much fluff and obvious gay pining it's a miracle they got together at all, tis the season to have changjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 18:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofactonbell/pseuds/jarofactonbell
Summary: Hyunjin is very kind, sweet, handsome and can hear Magical Trees talk to him. Changbin is very smart and can see many Things. Despite all this, they can't see the obvious gay pining routine they subject everyone to.Cue Hogwarts backdrop and the rest of Stray Kids looking into the camera like it's The Office - "please let our suffering end during this holiday"





	All I want for Christmas is you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [senandungbintang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/senandungbintang/gifts).



> yo i tried posting this fic three times last night at one but it all got deleted/internet glitched/ everything all went away because my fingers at 1 am are not reliable sources of mobility, but i'm here and i bring you some christmas changjin!!!!! it is very long and slow burn is a friend i've come to know for a long while now, i hope you, @starsforseungmin, enjoy this!!!! it's a good way to enjoy the holiday uwu

Kami brings him the letter from home three weeks before Christmas, and Hyunjin’s hit with the realisation that Christmas is coming and the gifts for his family will soon be gone from the corner of his trunk, delivered to his father, mother and grandmother.

It's not extraordinarily difficult to guess what Mr and Mrs Hwang wish for - him having a reasonable bedtime and returning home in the same pieces and arrangements of body parts he left in September in the Portkey for. As for grandmother, well, as long as he's not, to quote, _being stupid and disgracing the family name,_ it's all fine with her.

She's joking. He thinks.

Hyunjin joked in his letter a few times before that he ought to use Divination to look beyond the present to guess at what his mother might want for Christmas since he is tragically rubbish at guessing what others want. He had promptly gotten an Amazon wishlist in a fully fleshed out scroll, full of book collections and strings for her erhu. As for father, his request for vintage pipes ( _only to gaze at, Hyunjin-ah, I promise I’ll be good and not smoke!)_ was swiftly rejected. His complaint through multiple other owls was a source of much-needed banter and bonding between them that was ‘convoluted male solidarity’ that his mother scoffs fondly at, and the matter of gifts had been relegated to the depths of obscurity. They never quite celebrate Christmas in Korea as extensively as the Western countries do - but since his studies began at Hogwarts, he had pestered his parents long enough for them to accept the little gifts he brought home for Christmas and recently, the construction of Christmas trees. Grandmother was not pleased with all the Western customs sweeping through her home and held down the fort of Korean traditions all by herself, but Hyunjin had long since conflated _seollal,_ lunar new year, with Christmas, since he'll be only able to celebrate one without the other and she had mocked Hogwarts for not respecting the cultural backgrounds of its students.

“Grandmother, it's not like the school is exclusively for Korean students,” he explained. 

“It's for three days. They won't die if they shift the visiting period to February,” she stubbornly maintained.

He found that particular argument difficult to argue for or against her, therefore he dropped the subject.

He begged still for a tree, and out of absolute grandmotherly duties, she had summoned a tree and elected a plot of land in their backyard to cultivate small cedar tree. Though he thinks it's more multipurpose than anything.They hack off certain branches to burn for _seollal,_ for cleansing the house of bad luck and spirits.

But he likes to hope - and it's not like he's wrong in the assumptions that his whims are carried out almost always because of love. He's always got a soft spot in the hearts of his family, after all, despite whatever grandmother likes to say, that bullying woman.

He had sought out enchanted strings from a cat’s whiskers, imbued with the tenacity of the feline spirit. In return, he healed her sister’s legs and brought light to their dark homes. They were extremely grateful to him and promised him a cat’s loyalty when he needs them so. He promptly thanked them, though he saw no need to impose on their kindness anymore beyond the gift to his mother. However, his tale of heroics traverses the distance as occasionally, stray cats within the halls of Hogwarts rub up against his pants leg before sauntering off, a mellow _meow_ and a yellow eye in the firelit hallways for acknowledgement or warning. He has never been able to work that out.

Grandmother, with her cramped foot in spring due to the changing equinoxes and exchanging of powers in the spirit world, most likely would be doing something silly like take walks in the forest tending to injured animals and _then_ injuring herself. Grandmother, with that selfless streak and the responsibility of the guardian of the surrounding area, will just walk herself into a limp, _like she does every single year._ For her, he made a herbal healing charm, roots, and spices of his home in a sachet laden with spells and calligraphy, because she loves his handwriting, the only praise she had ever told him directly. Grandmother had a high aversion to anything Western, so he avoided sprinkling in thyme or rosemary for prosperity. It would do, and he had pestered a multitude of others into helping him charm embroidery threads so that they change colours vividly depending on the light and atmosphere. They are these loose, deliquescence, silk threads harvested from a waterfall, and he spent a good minute with Flitwick just _staring_ at them.

As for his father, Hyunjin made a note to stay a little behind at the apothecary and consult with the pharmacist for some tea leaves that would cure sleeplessness and where he could harvest these tea leaves. He noted down the locations of where he could extract some ginseng roots. Mandrake extract wines could interest his father, whose lifelong passion in herbology had transpired somewhat into Hyunjin whose career is steering towards healing with perhaps a specialisation in further research of traditional herbal medicines. The exact terms, to his indignation, follow something along the lines of ‘Eastern medicinal variations of ingredients in the known classifications’. Hwang Hyunjoon didn’t say anything when Hyunjin outright accosted him at the porch for sneaking in a cigarette and for advice regarding following that pathway - only took him to an extended trip over to a cultivating lab where endangered species of traditional folklore, the stuff of legends, are conserved, stretched out for many plots of land. 

_This is what I do, Hyunjin-ah. I’m never prouder that you are inspired by it._  

Hyunjin had made up his mind then about healing, and doted on his father’s incessant begging about smuggling home endangered species of plants by negotiating with Professors Longbottom and Sprout, who gladly extended seeds and would themselves apparate to the Hwang home to discuss about conservation over chrysanthemum tea.

But he’s not getting those pipes though. Love can only go so far - and cancer is, as far as curses go, hard to break.

    

He runs into Seo Changbin at the greenhouse, who’s perched on the ledge next to the Fire Seed Plant, emanating wine-spilt fumes next to Changbin’s freshly dyed black hair. It was a deep maroon before - someone ~~Seungmin~~ had wanted to experiment with hair dyes from potions and roped Changbin into it. He had looked good, but not as good as then.

“Hey,” Hyunjin steps inside, hand on the glass door, Korean rolling off his tongue, “whatcha doing?”

“Just,” Changbin doesn’t look up, keeps on scribbling on his notebook filled with smudged and looped scripts, not in English or _hangul_ , “Some ideas, gotta have them before they’re gone.”

Hyunjin lets his fingers slip off the door and takes jaunting steps to the sitting boy, watching the top of his head bobs as he hums and jots down ideas, all gibberish to anyone but him. 

“You can carry on, as you were. I’m not going to stop you from doing what you need to do.” Changbin muses, flicking an eye up at him, the movement requiring the barest effort, sleep still lingering in his lashes, then down at his pages.

“You sure? I’m just going to sing to plants,” he gestures vaguely at the Fire Seed, “starting with that one there, and I’ll be swearing at leaping magical mushrooms.” 

“We literally go to a school with a sentient willow that named itself. I don’t think you singing to plants will adequately scare me into taking off in the opposite direction, given everything else,” Changbin reasons, turning back to his book.

“Okay, okay, just checking ~” he takes off his cloak and wraps on an apron, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Tell me if I’m being too noisy.”

“Hmm.” 

Hyunjin hums, waving his wand for a simple mist spray over the rows of shrivel figs. Changbin continues existing in the same space, looking up at him every once in a while, checking in on him without speaking, then glancing back down. It’s not the first, nor will it be the last that they have spent time together. It’s a little niche for them - every Saturday morning at the greenhouse, him tending to plants, Changbin reading, writing or finishing up his homework.

Despite all his dismissive aura, this is simply an extended conversation they’ve been having since the start of their friendship: Hyunjin needs reassurance that Changbin is alright with him being around and Changbin who only ever grant tolerance at the start of anything, doesn’t like to repeat himself. What’s agreed is agreed. No need to ask twice, thrice, ten times over.

But Hyunjin likes to think he has a soft spot in everyone’s heart - which he hasn’t found objection to - and while Changbin frowns at the pestering Hyunjin induces upon him, there’s been never a doubt between them that Hyunjin is always welcomed around the circle Changbin holds close to his heart that is not crossed by many. 

He told Changbin once too many times that he ought to be more comfortable with those around him, so that the misconceptions around the ‘aloof and unsocial and serious Seo’ will dissipate, to no avail. Changbin is awkward and theatrical to a fault and contrastingly an endearing trait, but he gradually sheds layers of tight defences he draws around his heart to show that he is a real softie underneath all of that resting bitch face, Formidable Sixth Year Duelist and Alchemist Extraordinaire epithet he's taxed with carrying around on his shoulders.

“Jinnie,” Hyunjin looks up from examining a stalk of Shrinking Thorn Bush, long bangs in his face. Changbin gives one of his patented _Hwang Hyunjin you are a discredit to everything I stand for_ face before snapping to a neutral expression, hand playing with his necklace.

“Take your time,” he hums, pulling his gloves off his hands, nails still caked with mud.

“Wanna go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Changbin continues, trying hard to sound casual.

That's...odd. There should be no issue - either they go by themselves or with each other or with the rest of the gang, it doesn't make a difference - it's tradition for Hogsmeade Sunday to go forth. Hyunjin doesn't want to be rude, okay, but Changbin is acting like he's asking Hyunjin to rob the Department of Mysteries with him, acting all shifty and _not making eye contact and spinning his pen in his hand_ . It's a hilarious and cursed imagery, so he presses his lips together and squeaks out variations of _sure, I'll come,_ and dodging the enchanted fire seed hurtling at his head.

_“Stop laughing, you little brat!”_ Changbin shrieks in this shrill little voice, all in a Scottish fisherman brogue.

_“Please stop speaking English I feel like I won't stop laug - argh, hyung, stop smacking me! It's so funny! Acknowledge the truth!”_  

“No snacks for you when I make them today,” the older Hufflepuff hisses and throws all his books inside his bag, nostrils blown large at his pretend anger.

“It’s no matter,” he levitates an escaping toadstool to its place in the bucket, dusting off himself. “You say that like I can’t sweet talk others into giving me food. Don’t underestimate me, hyung.”

“Your stomach is even more infinite than the Extension Charm and even that's an understatement,” he purses his lips and steps closer to Hyunjin, hair tinting the barest sheen of gold over black under slanting sunlight high above, swathing them both with barely any warmth. “I'll crash your dorm tomorrow and drag you out. We'll leave at 9. Do not sleep in and be annoying.”

Hyunjin can't hold back the urge to tease any longer. “So are we going to ransack the Department of Mysteries too, while we're at it?”

Changbin pauses and looks like he's considering it, then -  

“I’m thinking more along the line of feeding you to one of the dragons at the entrance of the door to Gringotts instead of doing that. No need to put up with you any further.”

His mouth drops open. 

_“Hyung, that's so mean!”_  

Changbin just laughs at him and knocks knuckles on the back of his head, calling him a _pabo_ and gullible fool, letting his arm drapes across his shoulder despite the whole 12 cm height difference thing. 

(Hyunjin bends his knees and tilts his shoulder a little so Changbin won't have to tear his shoulder trying to be a cool older brother figure. Success rate: debatably passable. Effort measure: exceptional. He gets kudo points for trying. It’s adorable whenever he unleashes the inner Cool Suave Older Bro image because _it doesn’t work,_ and he tries so hard - so Hyunjin just goes with it, amused and fond in equal measures.)

 

“Hogsmeade, tomorrow?” Jeongin blinks through his spectacles. “I need to go as well. Let me tag along.”

“Is this present shopping?” Jisung throws himself onto the patch of grass behind Hyunjin, rolling on grass splinters. “Because I need to go too.” 

“Careful about the mess. Chan might throw a fit if you come into the common room looking like you’ve been actively throwing yourself down hills all afternoon,” Hyunjin chides. 

“Bold of you to assume I wasn’t,” Jisung turns his nose to the air, miffed.

Hyunjin makes a half scandalous, half disgusted face. “You disgust me.”

 Jisung looks like he has half a mind to bother Hyunjin even further, but Jeongin waves a twig in between their faces, a substitute for a spray bottle in between their escalating spat.

 “Whose presents haven't you bought?” Jeongin stares at him quizzically, waving the stick in warning still. The question notes his excessive and highkey neurotic preparations leading up to November in gifting his friends and family. “It's not like you to buy presents now. This is kinda late and last minute for someone as anal about timelines as you.”

 “I'm rounding up a few more things for my mother and the stock only arrived this week for the books I wanted to buy. So no, everything is actually on schedule,” he bares his teeth, subconsciously feeding into the implications in Jeongin’s words. He is _not_ anal, alright? He just _prefers_ being organised.

 “You already got presents for Changbin?” Jisung pops out from his left, pressing his good ear near his jaw, a chin on his shoulder. “Man who's notoriously hard to gift things to?”

 “Merlin, tell me that wasn't just a me thing too,” Jeongin sighs, pressing a palm to his eyes. “He loathed the enchanted pens I gave him.”

 “That’s harsh,” Hyunjin protests.

 “Anything on Seo Changbin’s face comes off as harsh,” Jeongin counters.

 “Anything that comes off your mouth is harsh, you mangrove offshoot,” he bites back.

 “Ooh, harsh,” Jisung comments, without much sympathy for him or Jeongin. “I think I quivered in my shoes a little, boys.”

“I’m going to jinx your luck from now until the rest of your academic years at Hogwarts.” Jeongin cuts him a long look, appraising the Jisung extension on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

 Jisung makes direct eye contact with him and moves his head to the right side of his shoulder, effectively blocking out sounds from the both of them.

 Jeongin’s gasp is both offended and exaggerated, hand clutching his chest.

  _“Han Peter Jisung! How could you?”_

“Peter Jisung Han?” Hyunjin looks down to Jisung, broadly enunciating the different names one boy carry in that long identifier.

 “Han Jisung Peter?” Jisung offers back, like he has no idea too - and it’s his name.

 “Why do you do this to yourself and not decide on just Korean or English? Why have both?” He exasperates. A little spark goes off and his sleeve had eclipsed his entire hand and he can’t find the opening to slot his hand through.

 “Too mean?” Jisung asks singingly.

 “Please un-jinx me,” he taps Jisung with his jinxed sleeve. “Felix is somewhere doing something in the middle of the night at the towers. I can’t possibly ask him to break me out of a curse. I also can’t endanger myself by casting a spell without a wand and alerting Changbin hyung at this time of the day. He’ll kill me and then himself for getting hurt.”

 Jeongin fleetingly flutters his fingers in front of Jisung’s nose before just mouthing individual syllable of his sentence. “Chang. Bin. Will. Mur. Der. You.”

 “My,” Jisung drapes himself loosely over Hyunjin's collarbones. “What a scary man, Changbinnie. A singular expression of pure rage, I suspect, will be all he needs as he goes on that murder spree. _My_ murder spree. Hmm. That may be very inconvenient.”

 “You don’t want that happening, do ya?” Hyunjin pleads, in this very pathetic cross of kicked tall child and abandoned puppy, clapping Jisung’s wrist in his. “I know you have pity somewhere in your heart that’s not entirely devoted to divination or Chan.”

 “Bold of you to assume I have a heart at all,” Jisung disentangles from him, unfurling his fingers and wand from his jumper sleeve. “I suppose I have to free you.” 

Hyunjin nods, earnest. 

“You can’t ‘suppose’ in this scenario. Changbin will murder you and he knows how to get rid of your body. Don’t take those risks, hyung,” Jeongin lazily advises, lounging on the grass. 

“How absolutely bothersome,” Jisung sighs, flicking his wrist. Hyunjin sees an opening on his jumper again, slotting his hand through. “Am I free of Changbin’s uncalled for wrath now?”

 “Don't say all that,” Hyunjin scolds, incident forgotten. “Changbin is just...very protective of me. And me. The point is, I need it.”

 “Godric's Sword, ain't that true,” Jeongin grins, fixing his bobby pins on his bangs.

 “You don’t say?” Jisung quirks an eyebrow at him.

 “Don't be mean to him,” he repeats, a broken record. He's on a very self-driven solo mission to convert this half of Hogwarts into members of the Changbin's Appreciation Society, member count at loosely three, four if Jisung happens to have a change of heart. “And no, he said not to buy him any presents, so I didn't quite...get him anything?”

 Jeongin and Jisung stop talking at exactly the same time.

 “Stupid boy,” Jisung thumps him once on the chest, “when people tell you one thing, they mean another.”

 “What possible other things could he mean when he told me _no?”_ He stresses, with stress, because his friends not understanding the concept of _no means no_ is troubling and deeply ignorant.

 Jeongin seems to notice the way in which things might have sound and flutters palms in front of his face. “Oh no no _no no_ not like that! We meant like -” He slants an eye over to Jisung, pleading for assistance.

 “You're the only person who he talks to nowadays and spends time exclusively with, taking into account Tzuyu, Felix, Chan and I who have known him for longer. We’ve all accepted that if anyone is out there carrying the Seo likes and dislikes, it would be you. And if you haven't gotten him gifts then,” Jisung shrugs, jostling Hyunjin with the motion. “Sounds like the end of niceness and order and truth as we know it.”

 “I'll get him souvenirs and food when I come back just before _seollal,_ so we'll just do gift exchange then.” He knows he's spouting out excuses for not gifting Changbin, because it's true that nothing will stand as anything when Hyunjin stops gifting his friends at every given opportunity. The Dark Lord could well return from whatever ditches Harry Potter sent him off to and the currency would be fixed, all because Hyunjin isn't giving out gifts.

 It's very theatrical and a tad _impossible,_ but hey, so was the chances of him making it into Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team, so no one can really know.

 “Whatever you say, mate,” Jisung pats him, all consolatory, his Malaysian accent soft in the Irish brogue he adapts to ever since living in the isles.

 Jeongin doesn't offer him words, just reaches over and squeezes his hands. He thanks them faintly, too distracted, mind still running about why had Changbin passed down that ban, wondering if it was him at the cause of it all.

 “We should head back. It's getting dark,” Jeongin murmurs, standing up.

“Rightly so,” Jisung stands, though there's a frown in his voice. “Hyunjin. You heard it too, yes?” 

They're both straining (and pretending like they aren’t) to hear the soft coos in the dawning night, coming from the imposing beech tree behind them. It seems to be upset. He murmurs a soft charm, a healing one, and watches it critically as silver stardust winds around the branches, kissing the bark goodnight and a promise to return. 

“This will be your responsibility,” Jisung points to him, “seeing as I don’t speak Tree. I can only suspect that it is upset, though I can’t tell what for.” 

Jeongin frowns at them. “Will you be right?”

“I'll be fine,” Hyunjin slings an arm around his shoulder in a side hug, reassured by the solid warmth Jeongin gives off. He looks at Jisung. “But do some readings for me anyway? See my luck?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. _What luck, you moron, you have skills, that's more than enough._

 Jeongin, skills more in charms, waits for them patiently to confer what course of action is best to restore the injured as best as they could to its original stance. He stays snuggled by Hyunjin’s side, cloak clasped in the crook of his elbow and naturally just begins walking away, dragging Hyunjin who is skipping along with the flow. Jisung falls in step with them, explaining as best as he can in plain English regarding the distressed tree, stepping off the grounds covered by the moonlight.

 Hyunjin ushers the two boys back to their respective dorms - up the Ravenclaw Tower for Jisung, and winding to the shimmering lakes for Jeongin. Both boys make him promise to send a warning flare to their dorms if any suspicious activities were to happen and _book it out of there, fast, please, Hwang._

 “But I'll be taking Changbin-hyung with me though?” He says, at two separate instances.

 But the reactions are the same.

 “Huh, then I guess you'll be right. You're in the best hand anyone could ask for. So look out for him.” 

As if he won't.

 

He traipses to the common room, fully anticipating Changbin to be in bed, but as the kitchen portrait slides to one side, his lungs give an embarrassing squeak as he makes eye contact with a Changbin in an armchair, feet hanging off one arm, eyebrow lifted behind spectacles as he assesses Hyunjin’s entrance.

“Hi hyung,” he _definitely_ didn't squeak.

“Hwang Hyunjin. You think I'm not going to notice that your sneaky little self isn't in bed, this time of the night?” Changbin drawls, every word a mockery and a warning, looking every bit dangerous as the duelist who took down his opponent in two spells, all non-verbal and barely with a flick of his wand.

“In my defence,” he beseeches, because scary or not, Changbin still listens to valid reasons. Probably. “There was a tree.”

“Your reasons all start with some forms of plants,” the older boy mocks, though the hostility bleeds out from his red nose. “Okay, and?”

 “That's it! I tried to see what's wrong, but _Lumos_ can only work so much under the dark and so I had to leave it,” _temporarily,_ he doesn't add, but Changbin already is summoning his cloak from his dorm, slipping shoes back on his feet.

 “Uh, hyung, what is you doin -”

 “Getting ready. Clearly your stupid, kind and selfless head is going to traipse around in the dark to see that some tree doesn't feel sad, and you need someone to watch your six, so I'm coming.” Changbin is all complaint and irritation, but he lets Hyunjin loop their fingers together, all loose and warm, and drags him into the cool air of the castle hallways.

 There is a distinct twist to Changbin’s left side of the face though, when Hyunjin whispers to him as they duck behind a pillar to avoid Mrs Norris, out on her patrol.

 “Sorry I dragged you out like this. I only had one mind to see you and tell you what I'm going to do before either getting you to help or go by myself. It's completely selfish, I know, yell at me later -”

 Changbin tells him to be quiet, all while mocking him in not using _Lumos Maxima_ , all with that curious twist to his mouth.

 Hyunjin wonders what it could possibly mean, and returns back that he didn’t want to wake the school with the magically recreated force of sunlight on their very own backyard.

 

“Hyunjin,” Changbin’s tone is flat. “The hell. Is that.”

“Where are you even looking at?” He hisses back, wand jabbing thin air and almost smacking Changbin with it as _lumos_ gives _very_ limited light source and all he could see is normal healthy tree bark. ( _No, Changbin, I’m not going to blast sunlight at 12 o’clock at night, don’t be disruptive to everyone else. We are out in the public. Try to be considerate.)_  

“Look up. On the branches.” What's visible of Changbin's face is tipped at the top of the foliage. “And for Yuhwa's sake, put that stupid spell out.”

“You literally just told me to use a the brightest bloody setting this spell can get up to and _now you want me to nox it?”_ There is no telling how far is mouth disengages from his top lip, but it’s gone pretty far in his exasperation.  

Changbin stares back at him, blank. “Yes. And _nox_ is not a verb. Stop verbing the noun.” 

Hyunjin hashes out a few choice curses under his breath, but flicks his wand jerkily, taking away the light, encompassing them in darkness. “Are you happy now?”

The other boy only grunts, as if it was an inconsequential matter. “Very. Now look up, idiot, see what the light thingy is.” 

“Spellmaster in the making and he uses _thingy_ -” Hyunjin breaks off his sentence, mouth gaping wide open as he spots the light orbs bobbing from the tree branches.

Changbin prods him once. Waits. 

Hyunjin is rebooted, all systems back online.

 Apparently that's just grounds for him throwing himself at the nearest branch and swinging his leg on it, swiftly clinging up the tree.

  _“Oi, Hwang, what -”_ Changbin hisses at him before reluctantly scaling the bark too, rustling up leaves as he finds his way to Hyunjin, grumbling all the while.

 At the heart of the tree, there are two things -

 One - willow o’ wisps.

 And two - a great big gash splitting two considerably sized branches on teetering ends, ready to split.

 “My dear, oh no,” Hyunjin gingerly places fingertips, skin curling with any healing charm he can conjure up, mending the wound, but not by much.

 “Damage is too wide,” Changbin notes, “you have a spell that can cover something this big, Healer-in-training?”

 “Well. I, _that's_ , I don't really,” he whispers, words all jumbled up in two languages. “Dunno.”

 “Think of it like setting bones, but on a bigger scale,” his hyung suggests, quite unhelpfully to this specific scenario and his skillset.

 See, the thing is -

 “I've never set a bone before in my life,” he confesses miserably and guiltily.

  _“You've never set a bone before?”_ Changbin’s tone is incredulous. Urgh, that expression he would have. Pinched eyebrows, flared nostrils, skin pulled tight at his temples. It's the patented look only for idiots, and he's at the receiving end of that right now. “How're you gonna do surgeries and repair tissue damage on people if you've never done the basics like setting bones?”

 “I can repair tissue damage, but not immediate tree mending surgery!” He flails his arms about, panicking. The weight of his panic and two growing teenage boys make the titillating branch groan with effort and Hyunjin quickly springs to apologise, running soothing circles on the rough skin of the branch, his own hands still shaking.

 Changbin covers his shaking hands with his own, a quiet shift, barely adding any weight on the groaning branch, squeezing his knuckles.

 “Hyunjin.”

 He breathes out too loudly at that soft exhale of his name.

 “Present,” Hyunhin swallows.

 “I'm here. I'll help.” The ever-present murmur is still there and Changbin’s hand is this warm solid weight on his hands and he takes in a shuddering breath.

  _Changbin is here. What is he so afraid of?_

 The branch ceases its seesaw balancing act, coming to a groaning twitch under his hands. _Tissue damage, overflowing wound, it’s nothing he hasn’t run across before. Come on, Hwang, you can do this. Changbin is here with you._

 That does a lot actually, the grounding presence of someone who won't go away and the tree chanting its own _it's alright it's alright, little one._

 Granted, all of his healing knowledge derives from human anatomy and he has a passable stock of information that revolves around _how to cultivate plants and herbs for human remedies._ But plants or humans, they are all living things  and the tendrils of hopefully useful healing magic exiting his wand curl around the oozing cut on the tree, sewing the tear close and holding the branches together.

 He doesn't hear Changbin cast a spell, but nobody really hears Changbin cast spells as a principle, because the older boy values stealth and silence as a battle tactic. The tree branch isn't holding them up by its own sheer will - levitation charms help keep things from falling and them into a _very_ long trip to the infirmary.

 Willow o’ wisps twirl around them, fluorescent aquamarine giving luminance to the dark depths surrounding them.

 It would have been surreal, but Hyunjin was a tad bit preoccupied with the healing and the watching Changbin every now and then.

 The sap clings and retreats into bark and there is a gauze of some sort, plastered over the great tear. Everything stills and holds.

  _Thank you, gods and ancestors._ Hyunjin, too concentrated on not screwing up everything, is exhausted _, gee,_ and collapses against Changbin, the back of his head hitting collarbones. For his part, Changbin never once lets go of Hyunjin, a part of him always making contact with the other, grounding the both of them with the irrefutable proof that there they are, by each other’s side.

 “Why does your hair smell like my shampoo?” Changbin's nose is in his hair.

 Hyunjin waves him, and the uncomfortable lurch in his throat when he realises that _wow, Seo Changbin is sniffing my hair, that's like,_ Dog Activity.

 “Why are you surprised I stole your shampoo? Your things are shared properties,” he snorts, settling further into the other's chest.

 “Your things are shared properties too, brat,” Changbin points out, though he's not shaking him off the branch and onto the ground.

 “Shut up,” he hisses, knocking the back of his head on what hopefully is Changbin's teeth. There's a little flinch and Hyunjin takes satisfaction in knowing it _hurt,_ somewhat. “I don't own anything exclusively anymore.”

 “It's not exactly my fault, is it?” Changbin pinches his shoulder, something in his hair still. Probably his chin. This is how Seo can feel tall. “You take something of mine, I take it back. Don't instigate events you don't want to reap the benefits of.”

“Stop lecturing me,” he whines. “I don't want to hear how I'm wrong.”

 “Gotta maintain that Golden Prefect brand image, gotcha,” Changbin fends back without much bite, caring very little about extended bitching session on Hyunjin's flaws.

 “ _Watch your back, Seo, I'm going to snatch that Head Boy title from under your nose.”_

 “Oh no,” Changbin brackets him in, arms loose but still capable of bracing on each side of his leg, crossed haphazardly on the seesawing tree branch. “I'm so frightened, I think I broke out in a cold sweat just then,” he intones flatly.

 Hyunjin swings around, shrill voice and a loose fist hammering away at the boy's shoulder, yipping about _cruel man_ and _bully,_ mind at a minimum caring level on the occupants of the castle and that there might be sleeping people inside.

 “Oi, oi, _watch the glasses,”_ Changbin dodges a swinging fist of his and catches a wrist, pulling his arm down. There's no strength in his fingers and it's not like Hyunjin puts up a particularly powerful display of raw strength on a branch of healing magic tree for the likes of Seo Changbin.

 Still. At least he's a tad bit annoying to the otherwise Very Reserved Seo.

 “Ha!” He crows, poking his tongue out and feeling like he is three years of age and he had committed the greatest feat in his years of existence. “Suffer, you tyrant.”

 “You're not even using the insult correctly. You keep using that word, but I don't think you know what it means." Changbin points out, shaking bangs and askew glasses back into place while holding Hyunjin down.

 Hyunjin manages to feel cruel for approximately three seconds before he takes pity in Changbin's head tossing and squirms out of the most pathetic wrist lock, ever, gee, Seo, have some conviction. 

Changbin freezes as Hyunjin reaches for his glasses, perhaps having too many war flashbacks to people stealing them from him in the past. Hyunjin smiles, all reassuring Healer voice, and hovers his fingers in the boy's direct line of sight.

 “You're helpless at fixing up your glasses, so I'm going to just push it back real quick, alright? No stealing, no eye poking, nothing malicious.”

 He's about to promise his portion of breakfast away but Changbin relaxes, giving away the softest dip of his chin. Hyunjin quickly presses a hand to brush all the strands of black hair away and push the frame of glasses into the centre of Changbin's face, nodding with satisfaction as his friend looks halfway to decent, with his help, of course.

 He doesn't move away though. With the light from the willow o’ wisps, Seo Changbin with all his black Adidas assemble clashing weirdly with his coat, looks almost otherworldly, like the creatures and plants Hyunjin helps take care of.

 In the reflection of the clear glass, he sees himself, all long limbs and awkward angles, along with the light the spirits give off behind him. He's all turtleneck, vest and slacks, and Changbin stares back at him. Silent. Waiting.

 While it's not true that Hyunjin is the one who dictates what goes where in this friendship, it's almost true that when they get too close, Changbin will sit back and wait and Hyunjin will have to choose. Out of the two of them, new and awkward situations see Changbin shutting down, and Hyunjin taking the mantle of decisions for that moment.

 Right there and then seems like a very awkward situation.

 But Hyunjin's brain also thought desertion sounds like a legitimate solution at that point so he just sits there like a useless Venus flytrap, perpetually awaiting an immovable object to make a move.

 The tree groans, evidently sensing the discernable tension in the two teenage boys on her branch. Her bark hums with gratitude, tinged with exasperation, and he breaks out of the inert trance he's sitting in, blinking rapidly.

 Changbin continues to stare vacantly, half on Hyunjin, half on the glowing balls of luminance, until Hyunjin hops on his feet, knocking his shoes on a narrow branch. Changbin launches himself up and steadies Hyunjin, as if he's afraid Hyunjin will take the plunge down easily and like, _die or something. Yeet himself out of good health by plummeting to a fatal injury. Fall and not let Changbin catch him on time._

 His brain blanks out on him again. It’s the grip that Changbin presses on his forearm that brings him away from a certainty of yeeting himself out of good health.

 There’s a stated 12 cm difference between his eyes and Changbin, but he’s gotten quite used to looking down and making direct eye contact with everyone else. Call it force of habit or conditioned body response, but he seizes the arm that Changbin grips on him, flares of magic emanating from his clothes, the same levitation spell chanting inside his head.

 For impossibly painful things can happen to Hyungjin, but as long as they don’t occur to Changbin, that’s alright with him.

 “You good, kid?” Nonchalance, faked, for both their sakes, colours Changbin’s words.

 Hyunjin too, plasters on a smile, only half pretence. A willow o’ wisp lands on the boy’s head, lighting up dark hair and bleaching it dark aquamarine.

 On a nondescript Saturday night, Seo Changbin glows like the spirit in the dark.

 It tugs Hyunjin’s smile just a tad into the realm of genuine glee, and he lets that half-smile swings on the corner of his smile. It’ll go when it’ll go.

 “Yeah, yeah I’m alright now. The tree said thanks, by the way.”

 Changbin squints, glaring into the dark. He can see better than Hyunjin, eyes a million times sharper in the dark, trained to do so after many power outages in his childhood that didn’t quite deter a committed boy to his reading. Something must’ve spoken to him. He responds back in a tongue that’s not English or Korean, nodding, foot dangling over thin air to jump. Hyunjin doesn’t ask - doesn’t really need to. Why does he, when Changbin tells him almost everything and keeps only unnecessary information to himself? He’ll only dig a hole that labels him as a Nosy and Untrusting Brat who needs to pester for every tidbit of information. It’s a system of equivalent exchange - Hyunjin waits for what will be said, Changbin fills in the gaps. It had always been this way.

 Besides, there’s nothing that the tree hasn’t told him before, so it probably wasn’t that important.

 Changbin lands without a sound on the ground, tipping his head up. A glint of those glasses frame and Hyunjin hurtles down from the branch, yipping as Changbin catches him as he stutters to a standing position, flailing his long arms about, smacking into shoulders and chest.

 “I’m okay!” He straightens himself, reassuring Changbin more than his racing heart from the sudden drop. “Nothing is missing!”

 “I think you headbutted me,” Changbin has a hand over his cheek. “Like, on the cheek.”

 “Oops,” Hyunjin offers. “I’m very sorry?”

 “How, in Merlin’s glorious years, does your hair still smell the same even after all that wrestling up on a tree?” The older boy steps closer, carding his hair back into a semblance of order, scowling all the while up at Hyunjin.

 “I just bring out the best in everything I come in contact to,” he shrugs.

 “How does it smell better on you than it does me, though?” Changbin’s tone climbs up another notch of irritation. “Did you charm the bottle, you tall abomination?”

 Changbin perceives the better use of his belongings as an overt declaration of war, and takes an open act of aggression against whoever committed the effrontery.

 In this case it all pertains Hyunjin, but really, he’s the only person with enough guts to take, steal and use Changbin’s things without fearing immediate hexing. He’s also the sole repeated offender in making better use of Changbin’s things, and they’re way past sincere _sorrys_ at this point. Hyunjin dances away from Changbin, reflexes trained in him from Quidditch of the zipping Bludgers and war stories from when Potter was cursed with very determined and cursed demon balls to annihilate him, so he’s not taking any chances here. Changbin is no demon magic ball, but he has magic and spells and demonic tendencies. Who knows what spells he could hex Hyunjin with?

 “Nope~” He dances away, popping the ‘p’, everything designed to piss off Changbin despite his brain cells screaming at him to have some awareness of danger. “Maybe I’m just more loved than you are by your shampoo, _hyung."_  

“I will hex you, one of these days,” Changbin stalks behind him, threat halfway to serious. “Watch your fucking back.” 

“You watch your words! I cannot believe you just defiled my innocent child ears with those terrible, dreadful, vile words! And your voice, how could something abhorrent comes from the pits of - whoa _whoa whoa don’t take out the wand, don’t take out the wand, I’m sorry please don’t hex -!”_

 

Hyunjin’s sleeping peacefully until his ears pick up on footsteps approaching his bed. Hyunjoon and Hyunjin made a pact, as part of the Hyun brothers alliance and _hey your name is the same as my father_ , that they won’t do anything stupid like _try to wake each other on a weekend._ It can’t be Hyunjoon. Hyunjoon’s too nice, as a person who is in Hufflepuff, nor is it the Sean and Thomas duo, who are athletic neurotics who start the day at 5 am, everyday, and commit to cross country sprinting around the Hogwarts grounds. 

It can’t be anyone else - and it feels way too early for Woojin to start crashing his dorm to drag him out for breakfast. 

Who _who_ _who_ is it then - 

“Hwang,” Changbin drawls. “I’m giving you exactly ten minutes to toss and turn and get the hell up, otherwise I’m turning you into something unflattering and drag you to the Great Hall in that get up.”

The noise he lets loose might not have been in any degree, a human noise, but he swings himself up, blinking, yawn barely out of his throat before Changbin tosses clothes at his head, making him swallow his yawn inside his throat. 

“Stop mothering me,” he complains as he picks up the clothes and flops over to shrug on a shirt. 

“2 minutes. Get out of here barefoot if you need to,” Changbin turns to walk away, leaving Hyunjin to struggle with the chores of dressing himself while half awake. 

Hyunjin snickers quietly as he struggles into a padded parka though.

Changbin, moments away from threatening to let himwlak barefoot in the snow, walked away with Hyunjin's boots hanging off his arms. 

“That's Mother Hen Behaviour right there,” he singsongs, tripping on his jeans.

Changbin hands him his boots and dutifully extends a forearm for him to hold onto while slotting on his boots, crafted by a family of goblins in Jeju that his mother visited for a sponsorship and came back with. They are super warm, and sometimes they get passed around in his circle of friends so that they too, can personally experience what this feeling of extreme warmth hugging feet and ankles is.

Changbin steals these the most, but _details._  Felix got to wear them once in a red moon. The sharing is there.

“Okay, done, done, what time is it?” He digs out mittens and puts them on, letting Changbin fuss over his hair and zip up his parka, muttering about _catching hypothermia and dropping dead._ When the other boy doesn't answer him, he reaches at the front pocket of his pants to fish out a silver pocket watch, squinting at the running numbers.

 “Does that say seven or am I seeing things?” He shows the watch face to Changbin, who flicks his eyes over the hands of the watch briefly before looping a scarf over his neck.

 “It is seven.” He tugs on Hyunjin's sleeve and leads them out of the Hufflepuff dorms.

  _“And you woke me up?”_ He gapes, slamming a gloved hand on the top of a shoulder. “ _Don't you have better things to do?!”_

 “Some people are still sleeping, need I remind you,” Changbin continues, not even bothered that he's being hit.

“I'm going to fight you, one of these days,” he declares shrilly. “Just you _wait_.”

“I'm not exactly holding my breath out for ya, but if you insist,” Changbin steps aside with a flutter of his coat, lifting a brow. 

Hyunjin steps through to the Great Hall first, but not before squinting at the older boy and muttering a petulant _thanks hyung._

“Hmm, I'm going to mention it all the time,” Changbin falls into step beside him. 

“Literally go knock yourself unconscious with a Bludger, why don't you.” 

“Nah, that'll be no fun at all,” Changbin grins, before touching his elbow, inclining his head to somewhere in Gryffindor. “I'll see you in a bit. Have to give something to Felix.”

“Oh yeah, see -” and he's already off “- you.”

He tries not to let that get too much out of his sleep addled brain first thing in the morning. 

He slides in by Woojin's side, cuddling up to the warmth the other always seems to exude. They just spend a couple of minutes sitting by each other's side, not talking, watching the snow cascade on the clear ceiling. Hyunjin wonders if his owl is doing well and not traipsing around in the snow and catching colds. 

“How are you?” Woojin murmurs. 

“Annoyed that Changbin dragged me awake at 7 in the morning and Kami is missing, dunno if she's alright,” he answers honestly. 

“Don't you have a visit to get to today though? Shouldn't you be awake early?” Woojin questions him, all reason and goodness in his soul. "You haven't tried a summoning spell for Kami?"

Jisung wanders in at that moment. “He needs to wake you up early, otherwise you wouldn't be out of bed at all and don't summon the owl. She's doing fine. Converging with other familiars. It will be best to leave her be.” 

“Thank you, ancestors who heard my prayer,” Hyunjin wheezes out gratefully. “Also hey Peter. Thanks Peter.” 

Jisung yanks on a lock of his hair as retaliation for the _Peter_ name calling and allows his own cheek to be pinched by Woojin, who lets go, satisfied that there is no unnecessary dieting happening in his sphere of influence.

“I'll eat quickly and see if Chan is alive, wherever he is,” Jisung pulls away from the Hufflepuff huddle. “And then I'll see you at Madam Rosmerta.” 

“Kay,” Hyunjin mumbles through a mouth of oatmeal. _“Western food. Gross.”_  

“Fuckin’ mood,” Jisung offers and absconds as soon as he remembers whose presence he is standing by. No swearing by Woojin's side. “Bye losers.”

 Hyunjin watches him zip by the Ravenclaw table and runs at Jeongin, who's slowly making his way over to Woojin, not even phased as Jisung hightailed it out of the hall.

 “Morning,” he hugs Woojin tightly. “You just waiting on Changbin, yeah?”

 “He's coming over though?” Woojin points out as Changbin approaches with Felix, their arms looped together, loose at the elbow.

 Hyunjin briefly catches some people staring at him.

Changbin grins, all canine and lovely, at something Felix rumbles to him, half in Korean, and Hyunjin can definitely hear everyone's eyes turning to him. 

Even Jeongin and Woojin sneak glances at him.

 “We're ready to go then,” he pushes himself up, smiling, not a trace of anything in his face. _Silly silly silly. There's nothing to sulk about._

 Changbin flattens an entire palm across his chest, taps it twice before making a detour to mock Tzuyu on something yet again, before heading to the outer gates with Felix, Jisung joining them.

The collective Hufflepuff tables exhales with relief.

Hyunjin wheels around at them, eyebrows confusedly pinched. _What was that? Are people afraid he's...what, no longer friends with Changbin or something idiotic?_

 “You should go quickly,” Woojin nudges him gently. “I'll see you later, Hyunjinnie.”

 “See you, hyung,” he bides softly, rising. Jeongin falls into step besides him.

 “Anything you wanna ask me, Jin?” The younger boy asks, a whisper in the falling snow.

 “Nah, but thanks, kiddo.” He replies, stepping closer to Changbin. Changbin who detaches from Felix, lets Hyunjin threads his fingers through their mutual gloved hands. 

Yeah. He doesn't need to ask anything. 

At Zonko's, where Jisung and Felix run loose, Hyunjin is starkly reminded of why he is at Hogsmeade in the cold. A flurry of owls, carting gifts from all ends of the land, land by the post office and his head does twenty gymnastic flips where it reboots all systems and reminds him that yes, tis the season to be jolly. And yes, Christmas is hecking soon.

“Ah gee,” he winces, “Christmas.”

 Changbin flinches next to him, faltering one or two steps.

 “You good there, hyung?” He slants his eyes across.

 “I'm alright,” Changbin grinds out, looking physically pained to have to answer that. “Go get your things. I'll be waiting.”

 Off to the side, when his books are all tied in a bundle and placed into a bag, he hears Jeongin and Changbin talking.

 “No again this year huh?” Jeongin whispers, trying for discreet, but Hyunjin can hear him.

 “It’s the same every year,” Changbin vaguely returns.

 “You know that at some point he's going to notice.”

 “It's, I don't even know, I'll tell him sometime. Soon,” Changbin grits out.

 “It's been years, hyung, come on,” Jeongin sighs. “You know he won't ask, but he'll be annoying about it when he knows.”

 Hyunjin appears by them, books in hand. Changbin automatically takes them off him, mittens warm, brushing against his fingers.

 “You got everything?” Jeongin loops an arm around his elbow, peering at the titles.

 “They're in ancient Greek and goblin. Mother wants to establish relations with the local community in Jeju islands, so that's why she wants to study up on the language,” he explains as they pass by Zonko's to pick up the September twins.

 “She's amazing, isn't she?” Jeongin laughs. “My family meanwhile is busy preparing stocks for the holiday seasons. So many tinctures to prepare, so many potions to brew. I'll probably be working for ages in Busan, but when New Year comes around, I'll swing by your house. Hope your grandmother is happy to feed another boy.”

“Grandmother loves you all, don't be ridiculous,” Hyunjin taps Jeongin's arm in reprimand. “I'll be seeing Seungmin too, when he comes around.”

Jisung bounds over to them, arms flailing about. A burst of coloured powder, like Holi is playing out in slow motion in front of their eyes.

“I'm buying one of each colour,” he dashes back inside, giggling as the powder tints Felix's hair purple. 

“Will this come off?” Felix asks wearily but fondly, tugging at his hair strand. 

“Jeongin can charm it back to normal,” Changbin appraises the strands of freshly dyed hair and dismisses after a while. “You'll live.” 

“Yeah, so,” he turns back to Jeongin, nudging the younger boy with his hips. “Holidays and I can't get rid of you guys.” 

“You'll be going home for Christmas, I forgot,” Felix notes. “You'll be celebrating _seollal_ earlier then?” 

_Seollal._ Korean Lunar New Year. That's the reason why his excessive gifting had been limited to mostly his Korean friends and obviously family over these months. He sees the way Changbin grips the spines of an ancient Greek text and casts a wide eyed glance in his direction, to which Changbin doesn't meet his eyes. 

“Hyunjin? Changbin?” Felix prods. 

“Yeah, ah, sorry for that,” he tears himself away from almost performing a legilimens spell in the middle of Hogsmeade. “I always celebrate New Year in January, because I'll miss it until I graduate, so we just expedite events quickly in my house so I won't miss greeting the ancestors.” 

Felix hums. “That's nice. It works.” 

“Any plans for Christmas, Felix?” He asks. 

The blonde shakes his head, troubled expression with a defeated smile. “Camp at Hogwarts and study for my OWLs, mostly. Apply for a residency in Egypt. Boring admin stuff.” 

He doesn't know the situation at home for Felix, but there's been talks on how Felix left Sydney to pursue an education in curse breaking all the way in Scotland and it was the result of his mildly estranged situation for the first few years he was at Hogwarts. Apparently it still persists. 

“You'll be right, yeah? My parents won't mind if I bring a friend home,” Jeongin offers. Hyunjin also nods, remembering grandmother Hwang's very generous spirit and love for strays, whether it be animals or friends, that her family drag home. 

“I'll be okay. Thank you though, you two,” Felix winks morosely. “Seems like you have fun holiday plans set out. I'd hate to intrude." 

“I want to win this polite fight, but I know that I won't, so I'm not going to,” Hyunjin relents. 

Jeongin's eyes take on a glint. Felix laughs and shakes his head as Jeongin launches into a detailed breakdown of why _you should definitely take advantage of my generosity_ , seemingly persuasive with his words. As he always does. 

Hyunjin bumps shoulders with Changbin. The other bumps him back. 

“Plans for Christmas?” He tries for nonchalant and cute and uplifting. _Tell me stuff,_ he's implying. 

“There are no plans,” Changbin answers tersely, finality in his voice. _No more questions. I'm not comfortable._  

It leaves Hyunjin with an odd taste in his mouth. The taste persists even as the others rejoin them. 

 

It bothers him.

_Why does Changbin look so mad today when I asked about Christmas?_

He's not sure where aggressive gift wrapping comes to fruition as a form of therapy, but somehow he made it A Thing. He's an ardent practitioner of this therapy form. Hyunjoon glances at him now and then, cross-legged on the floor, binding book covers and swiftly wrapping them in gift covers, all by hand. 

Sean doesn't want to ask, but somebody has to.

“Uh, Hwang,” he trips over the sound. “You alright?”

“Peachy,” he grits out.

“Please take a walk,” Thomas suggests in a fearful voice. “I feel like you're going to rip someone's arm out if you come near them.”

_“I'm fine,”_ he insists, deftly slicing excess paper and stabbing a knife tip down to the carpet with more force than needed. He didn't even need to embed the knife onto the carpet, period, but it just...happened.

His entire dorm is quiet.

_“Do we need to call in for reinforcement?”_ Sean mutters to Hyunjoon.

_"M_ _y_ _head tells me no but my heart tells me yes,”_ Hyunjoon hisses back.

“Do we,” Thomas makes these aborted hand motions, “call Seo?”

Hyunjin sets the pile of excess wrapping paper on fire as soon as he says that.

 Three pairs of eyes go wide, the wand in Thomas's hand freezing in midair, in the midst of an incantation but that ship is not sailing anywhere in this small space where an agitated Hyunjin could set people on fire. He's an healer. It's an obvious opposite of what the Hippocratic Oath. He's harming people, even though he vowed to heal!

_E_ _vacuate, yo._ The three occupants of the room share a look. _Run while ya can._

Before he leaves the room, Sean hangs back.

 “Hyunjin, I know I'm not a leading world expert in dealing with your feelings in general, but I do know that whatever it is, you can tell Seo.”

 “He's the one not telling me stuff and being all secretive with his feelings,” Hyunjin grits out, levitating parcels onto his trunk. “Certainly it's not me that's being singularly difficult.”

 “He's not a mind reader, is he, nor is he interested in reading stars. You should, by all means, tell him you're pissed at his secrets and if he's not telling you what they are, he can at least tell you why he didn't share the rare information with you.”

 “But then I'll be breaking our arrangements!” He wails.

 Sean looks at him like he's being very difficult and a child. He feels like both.

 “Use your words, Hwang. And don't set shit on fire,” he throws his hands up on the way out. “I'm washing my hands clean of you!”

 “Well merry Christmas to you too, Lucas!” He plucks the knife up and embeds it on his bedpost.

 The thoughts won't go away. They sing a fruitless refrain inside his head.

 It's not that he's pissed about Changbin keeping secrets from him. He's more pissed that everyone seems to be in on the secrets all except for him, which normally is the other way around, and knowing it does uncomfortable things to his head. He starts thinking about his ability to be a good friend and how he keeps secrets on a regular basis.

"Argh!" He flails about. "Humans! So many complications! Plants are better companions!"

At least that helps with distracting him.

_A different conversation -_

“Are you still being sad?” Jisung asked him after his potions class.

“I'm sure you don't actually want an answer with that question, do ya now, kid?” He rolled his eyes, robes billowing as he took large strides to escape the Han Interrogation Hour. Irritatingly, Jisung caught up with him easily, grace of a Seeker infuriatingly infused into his bones so that he could break into a dead sprint easily without a sweat. 

Changbin kinda hated him a lot then. 

Jisung passed a hand through his hair. “You can always talk to me, you know that, right.”

“Nothing needs talking by this point,” Changbin pointed out, waving him away. “I'll just wait till June to go back home. It never was an issue before.” 

“It is an issue now. It's cumulative, homesickness. One day you'll end up lashing out at someone and it'll be disastrous on both your ends.”

 “What do you suggest I do then?” He rounded a corner, bumping into a pillar.

“Get it all out, Changbin,” Jisung gripped his arm. “Or Merlin forbid, catch the Portkey to Korea with Hyunjin.”

"Haven't talked to him before.”

 “How about this, I know it's revolutionary, but, _try_ talking to him, with your words?” Jisung’s voice climbed up a pitch. “You moping makes me feel sad and miserable as your friend.”

 “I don't plan on talking to him any time soon,” he scoffed.

 “You need more friends beyond me, Chan and Tzuyu,” Jisung exasperated. “Please don't make me send an owl back to Hogwarts to scream at you.”

 Changbin muttered something like _sounds fucking likely to me_ and endured the relentless smacking the taller boy, just a smidge, rained down on his shoulder and arm. Jisung climbed up a couple of stairs, whirled around, and told him to _stop being sad I will know I have my tea leaves!_ before stomping off, visibly bristling. It's an ancient story, a repeated refrain since second year - _Changbin Changbin Changbin don't be sad and lonely and miserable at Christmastime._

 What a load of tosh though. He has always been sad and lonely and miserable at Christmastime and all time during the year. There's barely a time where he wasn't miserable however, face permanently pinched in an expression of frozen irritation from long ago.

 Jisung did hit the nail on the head. Homesickness is a familiar weight on anyone's chest. It's enough to suffocate him.

 

Jisung finds Changbin at dinner, a disturbing lack of one Hwang Hyunjin by his side.

 “Uh oh,” he says as he slides onto the bench on Changbin's left. “Did we have a fight?”

 “There is no fight, nor is there a we,” Changbin automatically defends, because truly, there isn't a fight or a _we_. “He's avoiding me though.”

 “Mate,” Jisung stresses, with stress, “if the sweet, kind, forgiving and nurturing Hyunjin Hwang went radio silence in you, that's practically estrangement. Good fucking luck, pal.”

 “What's wrong?” Seungmin crashes into them, pinching a handful of dried cranberries between his fingers. “Sorry I've been holed up in the dungeons. Literally. Mia wanted to have a whole house bonding event and I was tutoring this group of first years. Couldn't really leave. So stressful.” He tips the berries into his mouth, chewing. “What's the big secret besides Changbin feeling sad every Christmas?”

 “You ruined the big surprise,” Jisung whines, bumping into him.

 “Whoops,” Seungmin replies, with precisely no emotion in his apology. “Changbin, what's wrong?” He asks again, in Korean.

 “Hyunjin's been avoiding him since this morning,” Jisung informs him, happy to snitch.

 Changbin glares at him, though he doesn't seem quite angry. He turns back to the table, picking at the torn edges of his jumper, seemingly at thought.

 Meanwhile, Seungmin finally processes all the words and outright tells him.

 “God had forsaken you. May Merlin take mercy on your soul.”

 Jisung immediately high fives him. Seungmin accepts the acknowledgement, grinning a shit-eating smile for roughly two seconds before gaining back a semblance of worry.

 “All memes aside, you right?” He puts a solemn hand on the boy's shoulder. “Come over to mine. Liverpool isn't that bad,” he suggests, then the brightness tapers down as he remembers where he lives. “If you don't mind getting lost a good portion of the time and be a potential bait by wandering Grims.”

 “That is so reassuring,” Jisung deadpans. Seungmin knocks into him with his shoulder, the two of them rough-housing for a while, partly as usual banter and partly to keep up the pretence that Everything Is Fine.

 (It really isn’t, but they get points for trying.)

_"Stop poking my eye, Seungmin, come on -”_

_"_ _I’m going to gouge your pretty eyes out, you snake! Feel the fury of my nails! My talons tearing into thy irises!”_

 Felix who wanders over, holding onto the end of Tzuyu’s cardigan, pays the bickering pair no more than a simple ‘hmm’ of equal acknowledgement and judgement, smiling serenely at Changbin.

 “Hello hyung.”

 He smiles back, fending Tzuyu away. “Hey kid. Oi. Don’t touch my homework.” 

“But I haven’t done my Herbology essay,” she whines, nifty fingers already at work to pick at his jumper.

 “Don’t act cute. It won’t work,” he scolds, swatting her away.

 “Ehh, Binnie Binnie is so mean, keeping things from me ~” she taunts, smile like a leopard, leaning closer, lavender and chocolate milk clinging to her hair. “Heard you got into a fight with Tall, Sweet and Handsome.”  

 “I did not,” he bristles.

 “He did, he did,” Jisung breaks away from Seungmin’s headlock, gasping. 

“My condolences,” Felix dips his head. Tzuyu snickers and swipes his parchment away in one elegant swoop of her wand, scanning the entirety of his essay. 

“You are all bullies,” he complains, though the tension is eased from the lines of his shoulders long ago. “Chou, stop staring at that, I’ll write your conclusion, stop copying my work.”

 She already has his essay rolled into a scroll, straight white teeth gleaming in all its Colgate advertisement glory. He used to flinch whenever Tzuyu flashed her teeth in imitation of a smile at his face when they were in first year and stumbling through trick corridors together and she’s a brat that has a sole purpose in annoying him wherever he goes.

 It hasn’t changed much. She’s just gotten taller. And brattier.

 “All memorised ~” She singsongs, tucking the scroll into his breast pocket. “Thanks Binnie Binnie.”

 “If it wasn’t for the laws of this land,” he swears, “I would’ve hexed you.”

 “That’s quitter’s talk,” she parries right back, leaning in to steal a croissant. “And it didn’t stop you from hexing Juliet the other day, so I’m reconsidering that your chivalry is selective.”

 “Only to those who are worthy,” he flashes his teeth in an eerie imitation of her faked teeth flashing that she dares call smiles.

 “Oh you’re so infuriating it makes me want to pull your hair,” she responds back, grinning just as terrifyingly.

He has half a mind to lash out some caustic response, but holds harsh words in check when he realises where he is and who his peers are. The Hufflepuff students, the sweet, kind, caring souls of this godforsaken place, don’t deserve a pissing match between Changbin and Tzuyu at dinner, their brand of banter just teasing the edge of verbal abuse. Some people have been very concerned over how they treat each other. There have been more than enough mediated meetings for them to 'smooth things over' - Tzuyu emerged to be even more creative with her insults for Changbin. Nowadays they trade in offhanded comments and metaphors, just to maintain the illusion of how they are getting along. 

It fools many people and he's not letting himself caught in another mediated meeting. He's going to curse someone very severely if that makes a reappearance.  

“I’m still not over how she just called Hwang Hyunjin Tall, Sweet and Handsome,” Seungmin pitches in.

Changbin sits back, rocking on the bench. 

“She’s not wrong,” he purses his lower lip. “Though I disagree with the last descriptor.”

“He’s so easy on the eyes though, give the kid some credits,” Tzuyu taps him with the back of her hand. A taunt.

“Perhaps,” he turns to sip at his cold coffee brew. Still great quality. “Anyone wanna raid the kitchen tonight with Hyunjin and I?”

 “Say _Hyunjin and me_ like a normal human, you fossil,” Jisung whales on him.

 “How have you two made up in the time that you're not even together, I'm so confused, what,” Seungmin frowns, relinquishing his chokehold on Jisung.

 “They're never mad at each other for any period of time longer than a meal, so I wouldn't worry,” Tzuyu shoves him as she rises, face contemplating further cruelty. “Ask the elves if I could come down and make _baozi_ with them later on next week. I have patrol tonight.”

 “Gotta go and tutor those kids,” Seungmin chimes in. “But easily summoned if you are dying, dead, in the process of it - anywhere in between, I don't hold judgements on how you choose to kick it. I won't guarantee help, but I can guarantee running mockery.”

 “You brats really are -”

 “Hyung,” Felix smiles serenely, “spend time with Hyunjin. Apologise.”

 Changbin thinks that's a great idea. He should get on that. Not before he rats out on all the verbal abuse this brat Tzuyu Chou rains down on him -

 “He has a functional brain, unlike you all,” Tzuyu chews on a handful of raisins. Mia over at Slytherin gestures widely at Seungmin and Tzuyu to _come back and have house solidarity, damn it,_ if he's reading those wide arm gestures right. “Okay, gotta go, departing words before I take leave and your lives become boring again?”

 “If you see Chan crying tonight, it's because of all the NEWTs,” Jisung tells her in the kind of breezy way he does.

 Felix makes a commiserating noise. Apparently people are regularly running into a crying Chan who is upset he lost one or two marks that he took up permanent residence as Crying Christopher as a companion to Moaning Myrtle. Jisung is always around to drag him away but...sometimes Head Boys and Girls feel especially concerned and try to talk to him, in which he cries even harder, so now people do the smart thing and summon Jisung to strong arm him back to the Ravenclaw tower.

 Seungmin doesn't have any funny anecdote to entertain them in the tragic but hilariously entertaining Crying Christopher encounters in his natural habitat, because Mia, Head Girl of Slytherin, is marching over to drag them back for meals. He waves back at Changbin jauntingly, a telephone gesture at his ear and mouthing suspiciously to the lyrics of Call me maybe.

 “I'll see you for our mutual commiserating session on Christmas, hyung,” Felix puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly before stepping away. “Before that, try and spend a lot of time with Hyunjin. He'll be away for break for a long time. You'll be busy too. Don't spend this time fighting.”

 “Solid advice,” Jisung claps him on the back, “but now we gotta go, Headmistress is staring. Save the sulking baby a seat. See you soon, hyung!”

 Changbin doesn't need Jisung and his predicting the future to advise him that. There's a packet by his left, his textbooks by his side, the space clearly reserved for a person. Nobody else quite intrudes on his personal space or within a one metre radius around him as a principle. It's probably why the troupe of monkeys drag all of their circus act over at Hufflepuff to annoy him. Normally, when the world is happy and order is established, Hwang Hyunjin would be by his side whenever it is humanly possible. They had a falling out, there's no peace and order, so the monkeys, out of loyalty and an itch to entertain themselves on mucking with Changbin, drag themselves over to pester and accompany.

 He's staring at the Arithmancy work, trying to recall what the heck this magical property of the golden ratio is, that he doesn't hear the quiet rustle of clothes and Hyunjin settling by his left.

 That nagging feeling of his goes away. He hums, shuffling a bit to the right, sitting still as Hyunjin radiates nervousness by his left, tapping his feet and nails on his wrist.

 “You don't have to tell me what it is,” Hyunjin speaks.

 What.

 What is this.

“What,” he asks, eloquently, turning to face the kid slowly. Hyunjin glances up to meet his eyes, mouth a petulant shape.

 “You were pissed, today, at Hogsmeade!” He flaps his hands about.

 “You should know me better than to assume everything I do is because I'm pissed at you,” he murmurs back, a prick of irritation lacing his words.

 “And I do know which face and tone of yours are genuine pissed off faces and today,” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide, his voice climbing up the hysterical scale. “You were genuinely upset. Over something I said.”

 “You've said many things this morning, Hyunjin, it's not possible for me to remember this so called pissed off moment when I don't even remember being mad -”

 “It's when I mentioned Christmas plans!”

 Changbin shuts off his tirade with an audible click of his teeth.

 Merlin, how could he be such an idiot? _How could he forget that Hyunjin has the weirdest memory recollection and he dwells more on emotional impact rather than factual information and he'll be blaming himself despite having done nothing to be blamed for Changbin's seasonal pissed off mood._

 “So I just want to apolo-”

 “I'm going to need to stop you right there,” he pokes at Hyunjin's side. “Meet me in the kitchen, I'll tell you why. And no, it's not your fault, stop apologising. You can't be responsible for everything that goes wrong with this world. Shut up and eat the white people food. We're making snacks. Korean snacks. Proper food.”

 Hyunjin promptly closes his mouth shut with a click too and turns to his dinner, eating perfunctorily, without much care at what he is eating.

 He dabs an exasperated napkin to Hyunjin's chin as he clumsily dribbles some juice from his mouth, fingertips shaking.

 Changbin doesn't even eat anything. Sees that Hyunjin won't get any more in him and that it's enough that he ate some food. Stands up, pulls him outside the hall, towards the kitchen.

 The elves wave cheerfully as the portrait guarding the kitchen slides to the side, honey-washed lighting cascading over their heads.

 Changbin makes him sit, though it was with difficulty that he accomplished. The kid keeps on _fidgeting_ and does he ever _sit_ still?

 “What are we doing?” Hyunjin looks up at Changbin from the stool, sitting on his hands.

 “I'm doing something. You sit here and listen,” he tells the boy severely, eyes hard and promising pain if a step is taken away from that position. 

Hyunjin stops fidgeting and stills, head tipped to one side.

“I don't get it.”

“You don't have to get it,” Changbin turns to fetch out ingredients, at times even conjuring food from the tip of his wand. He can tell Hyunjin's interest is piqued and he has to know answers right there and then otherwise he'll simultaneously combust from sheer annoyance at not knowing.

Changbin decides to be an asshole and not noticing the elephant in the room. “How much sugar can you handle?”

“I have a sweet tooth, so I'll be fine,” the boy chirps. “Argh, stop avoiding the question! Tell me things!”

He measures the sugar and turns on the stove.

“Okay, shoot.”

There is a rattle of a chair.

“...what.”

“You can ask me questions. I'll try my best to answer.” He measures out the baking soda, finding no need for the cups.

“First of all, is that _ppopgi?”_

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, faux unimpressed. “Where I live, it's called _gukja._ But yeah, sugar candy.”

Hyunjin snickers a little. “You're an actual dinosaur. Tell me, grandfather, how was the weather in Goryeo? How often do you air your mattresses? How long ago did you cut your hair?”

Sugar melted and baking soda mixed in, he stirs with the ladle, pressing a shape onto the candy.

“Keep talking and I'll keep this from you." 

“Okay, okay, no more taunts!” Hyunjin mimes zipping up his mouth, perching tall and posture all ramrod straight, a proper gentleman raised in an influential family. “So why do you hate Christmas?”

Changbin carves out the characters for _fool._

“Think about it, Hwang Hyunjin. What do you think I do in the holidays while you're away?” 

“I never quite guessed?” Changbin looks up, eyebrows raised. “You didn't want to tell me much, and I don't like assuming, so it's just this blank void in my head. I know you're doing something, but I don't know what and I just, sorta, wait around until you tell me what's with the weird holiday traditions.” 

The elves’ chatter can be heard in the background. 

“You can't be real,” Changbin closes his eyes, sensing something like a migraine coming. “Honestly, seriously, cannot be real.” 

“I think that's just a thing that me, an idiot, does. And I guess I do have assumptions, but they're all vague, like, _oh Changbin is at Hogwarts because he doesn't like to visit his family, or they're busy travelling, or there's an estrangement situation like Felix._ The possibilities are endless, but you never told me and I never initiate the asking anyways so -” 

“My family's not very well off,” he cuts in, letting the candy cool. “I can see them once a year in June before I go back to England to live with Jisung's family. Budget's tight, and nobody's really a wizard except for me, so I have to go through normal people's airports and buy tickets. We're not exactly well off, which means I don't get to go home on Christmas because, well, tickets are through the roof now. It's ridiculous. We _can_ afford the airfare, but, well, I insist on them not spending much on me. So no holiday plans for me as far as I've been attending Hogwarts.” 

Hyunjin is so eerily still and quiet it discerns Changbin a little. “Say something,” he covers his eyes, not wanting Hyunjin to meet his eyes. “Say anything.” 

“I've,” the younger boy opens his mouth, then closes it. “I've no idea. All this time, I just. I - is that why you're always so grumpy when people give you presents for Christmas?” 

“I don't know where that is going so you might have to explain,” he lets go of a hand, staring at his _ppopgi._  

“You don't like accepting presents because you can't reciprocate materialistically to the person who gifted you.” Hyunjin breathes out the words he had always known to be true to his heart, the insight he was so sure is hidden behind open hostility to ward others off, away from him, because he has nothing to give them. Maybe that's why alchemy is so appealing to him - the transformation of lead into gold, the wealth that can be transmuted into existence. With alchemy, he can create something from another. With his life, there's nothing to be created from. 

Hyunjin slips off his chair, striding over to him and his cooling candies, steps light and almost not touching ground. 

Changbin keeps his head down.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin's words are soft. “Will looking at me be something you can manage?” 

“Somewhat,” he crosses his hands, eyes persistently not meeting Hyunjin’s. 

“That's alright. You're listening, which is half way there,” Hyunjin chirps, cheerful, before slamming a palm onto the bench top. 

“What the f -” he startles, jerking his head up to stare at Hyunjin incredulously. 

“Seo Changbin, fool, listen to me, and listen to me well,” Hyunjin enunciates, eyes narrowed. “Do you think that there's only ever material transactions in this world in friendships? Do you think I befriend you to leech off your sizeable bank account at Gringotts?” 

At Changbin's opening mouth, he snaps. _"No!_ _Are you dumb?”_  

“Quite, actually,” he shuts his mouth closed. 

“Oh not in academia,” Hyunjin scowls. “You're very brilliant, but if you think your worth as a person is determined solely on your bank account, I must inform you that you're very much mistaken.”

“Just before you thought I was pissed at you because of something inconsequential like my face and tone this morning,” he points out because he's petty too and the extent of which he wants to have the last word is monumental. “So who's the idiot here?” 

“It was a valid concern!” Hyunjin shrills. 

“So was mine!” He seethes back.

“I swear to Merlin, Changbin, it's like you can't see that we value you as a friend and not a commodity. It's like you're blind to it all, with the glasses and everything. How do I even show you how much money doesn't even factor into our friendship, that,” Hyunjin hiccups, wipes at his nose. “- that you just being around me and being Seo Changbin to me cannot be amount to a sum worthy enough.” 

Big, fat, ugly tears spill from the corners of Hyunjin's eyes. Changbin's brain short circuits, not equipped for this outcome when he frog marches the kid to the kitchen to just yap at him about being too paranoid, but now he made Hogwarts’ Residential Pretty Boy cry and he has to stop the tears uh how -

He steps in, arms hovering for a hug and Hyunjin runs at him, knocking the breath out of his chest, tucking his nose into Changbin's hair and bawling very, _very_ loudly. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid Changbin! You're so dumb!” 

“I'm sorry,” he apologises, sincere, because it's the right thing to do, and he had made this overgrown child worry sick to the point that he's not eating like the pig he is. “Hyung is sorry, Hyunjinnie. Tall bean.” 

Hyunjin snorts a little at the nickname Jisung christened him with - one that everyone remotely friendly with Hyunjin begins to address and refer to him by. 

“I'm going to eat all the candies,” he hears and detaches from Hyunjin who dives immediately at the candies, chewing stubbornly through his tear-streaked face. “And get diabetes.”

“You mean you don't already?” He feigns shock and chuckles shakily as a weak back kick is aimed at his shin. They're standing close enough for him to feel warm from Hyunjin’s furnace of a body, but not close enough for body contact. Changbin doesn't do overly clingy in his friendships. It's not what he's comfortable with.

“Bully,” Hyunjin sniffs, already inhaled all the candies. “I don't like you anymore.”

“You never did, kid,” he ribs, lets a loose grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

“That's because you're a bully,” Hyunjin insists, wiping the stove top with his fingertips. “So you're not mad at me, just the season?” 

“I'm pissed usually during and leading up to Christmas time, so no, it's not your fault, I just am an asshole for the time being,” he sighs, “were you worried that much, me hating you?” 

Hyunjin mocks him shrilly. _“What do you think, hyung?”_  

He offers guava candies he has leftover from his stash, watching as Hyunjin peels off the packages and crunches on three at a time.

“Tch, careful,” he scolds. 

“Your apology is pending,” Hyunjin tells him through a mouth chocked full of sugared flavoured spheres.

“How generous,” he intones drily, amused. “However will I survive until I earn back your forgiveness.

“Don't be cute, it won't work,” Hyunjin stabs a pointer finger his way. “In fact, I'm taking leave of your presence for a day because I have a feeling I might hit you when I see you, so leave my side.”

“Okay,” he accepts. “When you’ve forgiven me, I'll still be here.” 

“Gross,” the boy wrinkles his nose, his mole under his eye twitching. 

“You're gross,” he shoots back, almost reflexively. And also fondly too.

 

By the next week, the last week before Christmas, the friends have somehow, someway or another, found out about the Kitchen Crying  Incident. 

It goes a little like -

Jisung comes up to Changbin, and without preamble, moves in very close and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“You made Hyunjin cry. Like my prediction told you that you would, insensitive man. You lashed out because you were sad and you made the big baby cry. Chan's out for blood. I wish you luck.”

Changbin's first instinct is to blurt - “How the fuck did your crystal balls tell you that?” 

Jisung rolls his eyes, fingers flashing and tapping. _Puffy eyes, Seo Changbin, and he looks like hell warmed over. Don't need divination to see something so obvious._

Then Changbin's higher order thinking kicks in. “Then why's Chan out for blood?” 

Jisung apparently has fulfilled his duties in sufficiently warning and criticising Changbin, and has already taken steps away from him.

“I dunno, you made his baby cry,” he shrugs, tapping fingers to his lips. _Fucking sucks to be you._  

And then Chan finds him. And gives him a terribly gentle lecture about treasuring his friends and caring for them. And not undervaluing his worth to monetary measurements that are at best, inconsistent with who he is as a person. 

“Hyunjin told you that?” He asks, surprised. 

Chan's eyes close in a sleepy smile. His skin is pale and blotchy blue. He should see more sun back in his Christmas visit to Sydney.

“Hyunji told nobody. I just figured it out and I know about your finance situation. We're here to help you, Changbin, so please come to us. Don't push us away.” 

“Thanks, hyung,” he mirrors the sleepy eye smile. 

“Anytime, mate,” Chan winks and gets up, staggering and groaning a little under clear sky with no sun. 

Changbin makes a note to buy Chan vitamin D supplements and a list of foods that he can eat over break. 

Seungmin and Woojin appear in a terrifying tag team duo that is the logos, Jeongin, and the pathos, Woojin. 

“Hi,” Woojin grins, a terrifying flash of teeth.

“Urk, no, please,” he remembers trying to run away, but Woojin's this freakishly fast and strong Keeper for Hufflepuff who can take down people in air or ground because he played rugby and judo before. 

Changbin's attempt in running away soon turns into a chokehold and him being flanked both sides by Woojin and Jeongin, both sporting terrifying smiles. 

“Changbin, Changbin, Changbin ~” Woojin's voice descends down a scale in a lilting singsong, sweet and charming. Also deadly. So _so_ deadly. 

Jeongin chimes in. “You idiot.” 

Changbin’s still on the part where he _doesn't even understand what's happening._  

“Why am I getting yelled at?” He asks earnestly, because he doesn't know. 

“If I didn't love you so much, I would've turned you into something unflattering, like a llama,” Woojin laments, mouth twisted as if he's  considering it. 

“I'm still kinda lost here, so if you could -” he speaks, but someone, Jeongin, cuts in.

“Aiya, hyung, don't you get it?” The kid, taller now, flicks his nose, fond and exasperated. “It's never about money in our friendships. We love you for you. There are some things that cannot be bought by money, and you as a person is too invaluable to be put a price on.”

“Or be commoditised,” Woojin chimes in. “For you who think that this economy treasures everything money now and assigns values to every single thing there is.” 

“But doesn't it?” He insists, years of cumulative reasoning too embedded into his bones to detach from. 

“By that reasoning, we shouldn't be friends with you, because there is no exchange of monetary gifts between us,” Jeongin lets go of his shoulder, fixing his tie and glasses. 

“Why are you friends with me then?” He wonders. 

Woojin gives him a rueful smile. “Why do you think?” 

Changbin thinks he knows, but doesn't quite believe in it yet. The terrifying tag team leave his side, bidding him farewell in a mixture of threats and digs at his _shitty behaviour, ew hyung, get a grip._

 

Time elsewhere carry on. Christmas crawls closer to them. 

He drifts through Potions and Arithmancy with a hazy recognition that there should be revisions to be made for his NEWTs. 

He doesn't realise he's falling asleep on the spot en route to dinner and he had crashed bodily into someone else until he's steadied back on his feet and Lee Minho is peering down at him. 

Damnable short stature. 

“You good there, mate? You were kinda sleeping and walking at the same time.” 

“Was I?” He repeats, like an idiot. “Must be from the late nights staying up to finish essays.” 

Minho clicks his teeth in disapproval, frowning down at him. “Take better care of yourself. Are you free for about an hour or so after dinner? I know it's late, but I need someone to back me up.”

“Are you digging out a corpse or something?” He wonders, genuinely curious. 

Minho wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn't ask you if I was. Me, a smart, would preferably take Seungmin or Felix. So unfortunately, there is no corpse digging or necromancy, I'm just visiting the family of bowtruckles at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”

Changbin puts on a lamenting face and says, in the blandest voice. “Oh no, my dream of necromancy had been thwarted. However will I carry on.” 

Minho pinches his shoulder and tells him to get on with his dinner. 

“And meet me at Hagrid's shack when you're done!” 

Changbin gestures vaguely around him, indicating the Hyunjin absence. 

Minho leans a hand on his hip. “Do you want to bring him?” 

“I,” he considers, “no.”

Minho nods like he fully understands the reasoning of separation, no matter how convoluted. “I'll wait for you.” 

“Okay, hyung.”

 

When Changbin leaves the Great Hall with only a murmur of _I'm helping out Minho_ , Hyunjin is cow herded to the library, where an exhausted Chan is heard muttering the causes behind the Elf Conflict of 1789 with Wizards, complete with future implications and alternative methods of resolution. 

“Two minutes,” Chan pauses in his manic revision. “Then I'll be with you.” 

“We won't disturb you,” Hyunjin murmurs, keeping his voice the texture of thin spider web. 

“And I'm taking a break. Sit still, be quiet, wait,” the Head Boy dictates, staring hard at Hyunjin who echoes back _okay okay alright go back to studying._

Chan stares down at his parchment and back up at Jisung, who calmly accepts the deadly concentration laser look as Chan rattles off dates and conflict parties and causality at alarming speed at his face. Jisung calmly stares back and nods at certain areas and frowns at others. For a terrifying moment, Chan pauses in thought, and Jisung twirls a wrist in reminder in front of his eyes, tapping the inside of his wrist. 

Chan slaps his knees, careening forward, soft hiss escaping his lips. “Burial sites!” 

“There we go,” Jisung murmurs back, clapping softly. “You got everything down.”

“Finally,” Chan whispers into the void, “I don't think I've been outside today, like, at all.” 

“We'll go for a walk later,” Jisung reassures him. 

“Wow. I love you,” Chan yawns and covers his mouth. Jisung smiles a little in the lines of his lips and a lot in the wrinkle of his eyes.

It's sweet. But also sickening. Hyunjin needs to interrupt like the little brat he is. 

“But didn't you use code to remind him?” Hyunjin pitches in. “With the wrist and everything? Was that even accurate revisioning?”

Chan stashes away his parchment, leaning into his bag. “Not cheating if I don't know code. Also FYI it's called sign language, sheltered wizard child.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin twists his mouth. “That's an accurate name, really.” Then, turning to Jisung. “What did he mean by he doesn't know sign language? I thought he knows, like, everything.” 

“He is right here! And he can hear you!” Chan reminds them. Hyunjin keeps his eyes fixed on Jisung pinning his sleeves into place.

“Chan, unfortunately, doesn't have proficiency in sign language yet. It's not exactly practical for him to. Jeongin learnt a little for Felix and Felix and I know it because of all his curse breaking and all the hard of hearing in one ear of mine,” Jisung flutters a hand to his left ear, the recipient of a new spell gone wrong in third year. “Sometimes I just sign things reflexively or after a while spent with Felix. That wasn't me helping him study, it was just me remembering what he got right.”

“Besides, I would never let him help me cheat,” Chan solemnly vows. “I'd rather...mill about aimlessly in the common room before that ever becomes a possibility.” 

“Flamel saves us all before that ever happen,” Hyunjin drawls blandly, keeping in mind Chan's very own brand of Hermione-esque neurotic tendencies in regards to academia. Turning to Jisung, he raps the table with his fingernails. “Is the ear why you overcompensate by being loud?” 

Jisung shrugs. “Mostly. I also do it because it annoys other people when I scream, and I derive sustenance from other people's suffering, so either way I win.” He continues with a grin so severe and crocodile-like that Hyunjin gets a flashback to first year where Jisung, who could've been in many ways, sorted in Slytherin because of his personality, but had chosen to be in Ravenclaw to pursue his interests in divination.

“What a little shit,” Chan remarks fondly, eyes folded in smiling crescents. Jisung rolls his eyes at him, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You're a pest, Han.”

“Oh, like you're so much better,” Jisung mocks back. 

“Your flirting is so weird,” Hyunjin teases, in complete adoration of the interactions. He lazes about, plastering himself across the table surface as Chan cards fingers through his hair, humming. Jisung has an open notebook spread across his face, flipping the pages. Hyunjin turns his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, yeah, right. Why am I here?” 

“Third wheeling,” Chan replies right away, tugging the hair at his temple.

“Babysitting him,” Jisung jerks a thumb at Chan, fingers still flipping his notebook. 

“Ha ha, shut your yapping. I know it’s got something to do with me and Changbin and our little spat,” at Jisung’s raised eyebrow, “okay, fine, it was a _significant_ spat. I'm okay though. I'll get over it.” 

Jisung continues raising his eyebrows even higher. 

“Your mouth is not talking but your face is telling me a lot,” he whines into the table. 

“Too bad, so sad?” 

He flattens his cheek on the table, angling his head to Chan. “Hyung, he's bullying me~” 

“There there,” the Head Boy pats his head, appearing to be both placating and condescending at the same time. “Our little baby. So cute. So clueless.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It wasn't a compliment, love,” Chan grins, a tad wicked. “You and Changbin, that's a pot of hot potatoes we don't want exploding. Changbin deals with problems better, and sometimes, best, by himself and away from parties of conflicted interests. You get sad and mope and need time away too, lest you fight him. I need human interaction and Jisung wants a friend to talk to him when I'm in neurotic study mode. We want you here. Stay with us and sort things out. We love and appreciate you.” 

“Thank you, but no,” he refutes. 

Either Chan or Jisung lie about the sign language thing, or they're one of those extra couples that develop their own language to talk about people without them being in on the joke. Jisung performs these elaborate finger taps and twirls and Chan hacks out a breathy laugh, rocking back on his chair. Jisung meanwhile just sits there, smug, hand pushing back hair that tints platinum by the candlelight in the library. 

Hyunjin is not in on the joke and it is not funny to him. 

“I feel like an unwanted love child that had been passed from one family to another and you're tasked with bonding with me for the week,” he mumbles into the surface of the table. 

Chan laughs again. Jisung might've coughed something like _you can't be more wrong._

 

Any adventure with Lee Minho, Quidditch Captain, ex prefect, ends with many lessons to be learned: 

  * Bowtruckles are simultaneously the cutest and the sneakiest motherfuckers on this end of the country
  * Minho really loves to scream at 8 o'clock at night
  * He really misses Hyunjin and he ought to grovel for forgiveness 



At the Hufflepuff common room, he's in, staring at his shoes and considering toeing them off when he's tackled by a flying blur of black, screeching out his name in a demonic volume and tone. 

_“Changbin-hyung!”_  

Nevertheless, he winds quick arms around the menace, almost gets knocked off his feet, but it’s alright, he’s alright, they’re alright, he’s got Hyunjin. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Hwang,” he wheezes, breath stuck somewhere in his throat. “I could’ve fallen. Or worse, you could’ve gotten hurt.” 

And Hyunjin, because he’s a brat and an extra one to boot, tips back his head and grins right into Changbin’s face. “You need to sort out your priorities.” 

“I’m hexing you one of these days,” he vows in this terribly insincere way. Hyunjin sees right through it.

“Ey, you always say that! Come help me pack the gifts for Chan. Come, come, come!” Hyunjin bounces off him, feet clear of shoes and fingers tugging at his sleeves, pulling him to the fifth year’s dorms. He lets himself be dragged along, the animosity that was weirdly between them all dissipated in the words Hyunjin murmurs into his neck. 

_Everything sucks without you, hyung. Let me come with you, where you’re going. I don’t mind. Please don’t let anything come in between us ever again. I forgive you entirely._  

He always thought that Hyunjin was tragically simple-minded and too forgiving in the past, but now, it seems that the Sorting Hat had seen through, almost five years ago, the infinite reserves of kindness and forgiveness this boy harbours.

 

Changbin definitely didn’t cry when he saw Hyunjin off at the tall gates where the Thestrals waited in solemnity to take the departing students away from Hogwarts. He definitely didn’t cry, but he held onto Hyunjin for a beat too long and a squeeze too tight, and didn’t return to Hogwarts until the carriages had been obscured from view. 

Felix doesn’t comment on his prissy mood for the entirety of two days, happily plowing through his mountain of work and practicing further code breaking, occasionally muttering in lost languages of long passed civilisations. 

They wouldn't speak to each other for many days on end - as their arrangements have always been, Felix not wanting to face the loneliness of the Tower while Changbin cannot stomach the visible absence of everyone else going home and not him, so they keep each other sane during holiday season.

On the 25th, he gets an owl, bearing the emblem of the Hwang household on its claws. After feeding the bird with a morsel, he extracts the scroll, all done in skilful strokes of a calligraphy brush of _hanja_ , telling him of food and visits from various cousins and aunts who pinch Hyunjin’s cheeks and call him ‘a big boy’ now. It’s terrible narration, but lovely strokes of words - Changbin almost envies the delicate curls and almost touching but not quite box of others, feeling like Hyunjin is here with him, to chase away the fading memories of nightmares had about his home. They’re not real, per se, but they nevertheless frighten him because he’s immobilised where he is - unable to apparate home with a moment’s summon, though he wishes _wishes wishes_ that it can be so. The food, the atmosphere, the festivities that Hyunjin recounted to him - he wants to taste it all. But he cannot. So he must wait. Count the months until he can be with his family again. See everything and how it changes. 

Hyunjin signs off his letter with _hangul_ , clashing with all the hanja, an idiom to depart wisdom onto him. 

_If going words are beautiful, coming words will be beautiful._ _가는 말이 고와야오는 말이 곱다._  

_I fully trust in the continuation of optimism. Sincerely yours, Hyunjin_  

He’s the dumbest brat Changbin knows, but this year, Christmas is a little bit better. 

Felix sits by his side during dinner on New Year’s Eve, the two of them chattering about the most mundane subjects, not even approaching the missing home or the not wanting to go home taboo subjects. 

They don’t exchange gifts. Changbin insisted back in second year. 

“Feels like Hyunjin’s gonna send you something,” Felix hums as they take walks around the Hogwarts ground, everything so blindingly white that there are no shadows and he’s not quite sure how far they’ve covered. 

“Knowing him, he’ll bring back candy canes, but they’re enchanted, and they sing Christmas carols,” he snorts, not entirely opposed to the notion of gifts, if they come from Hyunjin. 

“He’ll bring back a music box that sings the entirety of the ABBA discography,” Felix slams a fist on his open palm, eyes large. 

Changbin thinks about it. 

“He would, that little brat.” he gasps, partly faking his alarm and partly wondering about it. “Jeongin’s with him right? He’ll goad him into sending me that monstrosity. I just know it. I’m going to send my Patronus to knock him on his arse, that brat.” 

“Which brat are we referring to, though?” Felix wonders. 

“Jeongin, a bit, Hyunjin a lot. You know what, just Hyunjin. I'm going to curse him, all the way from here, to Korea.” 

Felix laughs at him and casts a spell to clear a path to a door back to the castle.

 “I’m happy you’re having fun, hyung,” he would tell Changbin later on.

 “Yeah,” he entertains the notion of Hyunjin coming back, bearing gifts he didn’t ask for but need, perhaps desperately so. “Me too.” 

 

There is so much food on the table and the pantry that range from turkey to the familiar _buchimgae_ , all homemade, that Hyunjin just stands frozen at the threshold, gaping like an idiot. 

Grandmother tells him to close his mouth and help her with the preparation of food. There are cousins and aunts and uncles coming, plus Jeongin and Seungmin are popping by for a very short stay. The amount of food grandmother can bring into being frightens him and if growing up he wasn't aware of magic, she would most likely be the force that dispels all doubt. She has familiars, alright, and Buddhist charms that exorcise malignant spirits and the ability to summon objects at her will. 

“Faster, or no noodles for you!” She calls for him. 

He trips over his feet, scrambling to her. “I'm coming I'm _coming!”_

Later at tea and _hangwa_ time, where the waves of guests had already passed by, ate food and pinched Hyunjin to the shade of a dropped peach, his mother Choi Yujin, asks him the million won question -

“I thought you'll be bringing Changbin this Christmas.” 

Hyunjin wails from the sink. “He won't let me buy him plane tickets!”

Hyunjoon blinks. “Why do you need tickets?”

“The normal, non-magic people can't just apparate to places, father, so they have to get on this machinery called a plane. I explained it to you before -” he stacks lids and pots with a rage uncalled for, rendering kitchen utensils into an uncalled for percussion performance.

“Don't be rude to your father,” grandmother chides without looking up from her embroidery, needles flying from stitches to stitches. 

“I'm sorry,” he offers placatingly, “the fates are looking terrible and I had a small fight with him, but basically he didn't want to impose on us and I didn't know how human transportation works, so he's staying back and I'm unhappy about it.” 

“Couldn't he come with you via the Portkey on King's Cross?” His mother looks up from her erhu, polishing the side of the instrument. 

“...what.” 

Yujin stares at him like he is two again and just tried to drink the polishing oil she uses for her instrument. “Portkeys can transport more than one person,” she states slowly and deliberately, eyes narrowed. 

Hyunjoon meanwhile thinks it's the best revelation anyone can have on this side of the peninsula. “You didn't know that?” He asks gleefully. 

_“No!”_ He splutters. “How could I? The minute my brain went _planes won't work_ it shut down.” 

“We have this marvellous, and I daresay, existing and working concept, it's called magic,” father mocks Hyunjin back in the exact same tone he expended on the man just earlier. _Beans come out from where beans are planted, indeed._  

He wrings the towels he just used. “I was just thinking about how to bring him over, magic or no magic.” At three faces trying to suppress laughter, he shrieks. “Stop antagonising me.”

“There's always next year, sweetheart,” Yujin reassures him smoothly.

“Tell him we said hi and happy lunar new year,” Hyunjoon ceases his teasing at the crestfallen expression that is crumbling on Hyunjin's face. “Or...not…?” 

Grandmother sniffs at his close-to-crying face. “Quit that terrible look, Hwang Hyunjin.” 

“But grandmother, he’s stuck in some cold rock in the middle of nowhere, he can’t go home for new year, his ancestors have been mad at him for, like, six years in a row, he’s by himself. I feel so terrible for not being able to do anything for him. I couldn’t even kidnap him home with us. I am ridden with guilt. Everything is terrible and he’s sad and mopey so now I’m sad and mopey.” 

He pauses in his tirade, out of breath. He shakes his hair out of his eyes, clasping his hands together in a praying stance.  “I need working solutions because clearly me crying about him won’t bring us anywhere,” he begs. 

Hyunjoon looks down at him with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, grinning broadly. “I think I like having a screaming Jinnie around though. Lifts up the atmosphere.” 

Hyunjin launches into another dispassioned speech about how he’s truly going to overcompensate for not fulfilling his duties towards Changbin as a tormented friend and he’s going to mope for the rest of this trip _do you hear me father, I will do it -_

“Stop that whining,” grandmother raises her voice. He shuts up. So does father. “Hyunjoon, don’t be an example of what an annoying brat is like so that your son copy you.” When everything is at an acceptable volume, she resumes her stitches. “What then, do you want to do for new year, child?”

“I wanted to bring Korea to England to him, but it sounded like a great plan in my head and not much to go on outside of it,” he confesses miserably. 

Without looking down at the fabric, she loops a stitch, eyes sharp and focused on him. “New Year has food and toys and all those terribly gaudy traditions you children indulge yourselves in. Bring him a gift hamper with all the dried fruits, wine, tea, sweets and _jeon._ Bring him a kite and a hanbok. Tell him to toughen it up, school ends in a year and a half, he can always leave and live in Korea after he graduated.” 

Hyunjin gapes, forgets to keep up his melodramatic gig. “Grandma, that’s such a solid plan.” 

“That’s my plan for any of you silly young ones leaving your home to prance off overseas. You and that boy of yours are returning after your education, and you best go home, here, together, where you belong,” grandmother stops sewing to look at him severely for a moment. “Got that?” 

He’s not quite sure what they’re implying here, or just outright telling him at this point. He has a habit of taking things at face value too religiously - and instructions told to him are followed too well. Double entendres and innuendos fly over his ridiculously tall head. He’s dense to an infuriating degree and to a sweet trait. 

“I mean, that is my plan. I don’t know about -” he bites the inside of his cheek, “what he wants to do.” 

Hyunjoon can be heard briefly going _it’s never going to happen and I won’t be around to see when it does happen_ and Yujin smacks him in the arm repeatedly.  

“We can start fermenting wine and dry and sugar fruits. You’re going to help me bleach paper scrolls for good luck charms for the new year,” grandmother packs away her embroidery and threads, crooking a finger to him to help her up. “Don’t even think of having fun.”

“This is child labour,” he complains, gripping her fingers and hoisting her up, “it’s illegal in England. It’s illegal in a lot of places.”

“Then I’ll just take everything and gift them to the Yang family. It doesn’t matter to me, this boy of yours,” she shrugs. He drops her hand, nearly falling onto a grovel. 

“Child labour? Nope. Never heard of it,” he quickly amends, scrambling after her. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” she smirks, serene expression intact even with the sinister tone she has happening. 

Off to the side, he can hear his parents whispering furiously to one another. 

“Maybe we should just tell him, outright,” father suggests.

“Maybe we shouldn’t meddle and just leave him be,” mother counters.

“There’s no fun in your method,” Hyunjoon whines, and lets it be. 

“You’re just making it hard for him because he’s even stricter than I am at enforcing rules of rehabilitation from smoking,” she chides. 

“Perfect little bastard,” Hyunjoon concludes fondly.

 

The discussion of missing New Year had gone precisely like this - 

Hyunjin had asked. “Do you miss _seollal_?”

 Changbin had stared. “Kinda question’s that?”

When Hyunjin backpedalled and stumbled for a better and more eloquent elaboration, he patted the back of his hand, eyes betraying nothing to the even tone he gave Hyunjin. “Yeah, I do. A lot. All the time.” 

“Do you wanna come to my hou -” 

“No. Absolutely not.”

 “But why? My family wouldn’t mind. They love friends and strays alike. Plus, you’ll be able to wind back up to your place -” 

Changbin wrapped a hand around his wrist, squeezing once. Waited for him to stop himself.

“I’ll be right,” he smiled, without much joy in it. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

He had opened his mouth in opposition and perhaps more reasons for why _he’s right_ but that tight set to Changbin’s jaw mattered more than the manifest issue of smuggling him home without the use of magic or airplane tickets.

Hyunjin had always been weak when his friends are upset. It came as a no brainer that he agreed to never approach the topic until whenever they deem is right. 

“Okay,” he conceded, and that was that. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask anymore.” 

“Thank you,” Changbin’s eyes flashed in gratitude. “Sorry.” 

“No need, hyung, I’ll get over it.”

 

Thus, everything goes as grandmother says.

“Grandmother.”

“If this is another inane question, I have no intention of answering.”

“What do you want for Christmas?”

 “I don’t celebrate those Western holidays, despite your parents indulging in the culture colonisation of the West.”

 “I mean, I got you threads for embroidery, and I perfected a healing charm, for when your foot gets weird in spring, like it always does -” 

She tightens the thread on a packet of _yakshik_ . Takes the basket of gifts he’s been lugging around all day. Wrinkles her nose at his choice in mixing mugwort, perilla, _wonji_ root with the slight aroma of roasted _sanjoin._ Scrutinises the threads that glisten with the light, the charms of shifting colours he imbued onto them holding intact. 

“I suppose this will do,” she acquiesces. Smiles a little. “You’ve gotten good at guessing what others need.” 

“I’ve also gotten rubbish at what they want, though. I have to ask, otherwise I will never know,” he gestures to her. “Like now. I don’t know what makes you happy. I just know that these gifts will make circumstances less worse for you.” 

“You’re horribly human that way, grandson,” she flicks a wrist to open a window, wintry winds blowing by. “Incredibly perceptive, ears of a bloodhound, but seemingly can’t recognise the obvious. It’s a curse and a blessing.”

“I don’t know if you’re praising me or insulting me.” 

“Both. Tie that bag faster. Make sure these get to him. Don’t open scrolls without permission and do not be overbearing when you get back to him,” she scolds all in succession of bags and charms sealed onto each other. They, well, by they he means him, make these fortune cookies. Grandmother slots in the same saying in all the cookies. He carries the basket back inside his trunk with the greatest apprehension, fearing Changbin’s reaction. 

(“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeongin and Seungmin who were there for a very brief visit, to raid the pantry and fridge and to sweet talk grandmother into new year’s pocket money. “He’ll cry himself to exhaustion because it’s such a meaningful gift.” 

“Would you even cry if I feed you new year’s food?” He quizzed, sceptical, eyes scrutinising the charms twins - the triple repetition tag team - great at charms, charming personality, can charm the magic from someone’s wand if they put their minds to it.

“I would cry if you feed me any kind of food,” Jeongin had told honestly. 

“Mood,” Seungmin chimed in, sipping _ddeokguk_ soup. “Is this yours?” He lifted up the bow. 

“Yes, what of it?” He replied, confused.

“Changbin’s going to weep an entire ocean when he eats those snacks, Godric’s armour, mate, this is so good,” Seungmin dipped back to the kitchen for a third serving. “Please cook for me forever.”

“Ask Chan,” he deflected the potential proposal there. 

“Can’t. He already exchanged vows with Jisung. You think I want to get in the middle of that? Nah. No thank you. I’m good,” Seungmin spooned a couple of rice cakes and fed them to Jeongin whose eyes went comically wide. 

“Please cook for me until you graduate, hyung,” Jeongin gripped his hand. “These are so good. I want to cry now. I’m actually tearing up, no lies.”

“Someone should record Changbin crying,” Seungmin hummed through his mouthful of food. 

“Get out of my kitchen,” Hyunjin told them wearily. “Stop stealing food, you vagabonds. Go home.” 

And just as they had come in, all in their whirlwind-esque manner, they left in a blur of chaos, teenager wizards and loud chatter. 

“See you in a week, Hwang!” 

Indeed they would.)

 

Hyunjoon resists the welling of tears in his eyes for a proper send off, but Yujin clasps Hyunjin tightly in her arms, thanking him for the gifts and his biannual return home.

 “It’s lonely without you,” she smiles, corners of her mouth weighed down by suppressed tears. “You make the house so alive.” 

Hyunjoon caves in the moment Hyunjin turns to him, both of them clutching each other tightly once and letting go. Holding on for too long would be a hard-to-recover from experience because Hyunjoon is just as sentimental as Hyunjin is overtly. 

“Keep well, father. I’ll see you in a few months,” he wishes, smiling ruefully at his parents. 

Grandmother didn’t come to send him off. 

“He’ll come back in a few months. Stop being dramatic,” she had chided all three of them at the last dinner, scoffing at the unchecked tears. “No tears at dinner, it’ll ruin the food.” 

He supposes the familiar swallow that is perched on the leafless branches of the elm tree at the point of his Portkey is just a random swallow. 

“In a few months,” he promises, and vanishes with the Portkey.

 

A week after White people New Year, where everyone’s back and Changbin is faced once again with the force of a flying manchild flinging all 180 cm onto his 167 cm self, screeching his name from the heavens and beyond.

“Are you summoning me or banishing me, Hwang?” He catches Hyunjin, as he always had and as he always will, laughing easily. Merlin, the days have been long. The castle is half dead without Hyunjin there and it all is loud and annoying and clingy and _homey_ with Hyunjin chattering around him, arms flailing to recount and lament the collective bullying his family put him through. 

“Ah!” Hyunjin turns, slapping his arm, looking down. “Come to my dorm and wreck Sean’s bed with me.” 

“Alright,” he lets himself be dragged along. 

Hwang Hyunjin is a dirty liar. Or Seo Changbin is just very gullible when it comes to Hyunjin.

 Either way, he’s stopped at Hyunjin’s bed, not Sean’s, where a hamper is summoned from the depths of the younger boy’s trunk, with the gift tag bearing the calligraphy of his name.

He doesn’t quite process it in the first two seconds. 

Hyunjin waits, no expectation in his gaze. Changbin robotically accepts, cradling the wicker basket to his chest.

 The curtains are drawn and the sky still has no sun. Hyunjin’s eyes are half closed, lids pulled down in that particular natural resting place between opening and closing, moles so present under his eyes, eyes large and brown and soft. 

“새해 복 많이 받으세요. _I hope you have a lucky new year.”_  

To his credit, he doesn’t quite toss the hamper back to Hyunjin. To his credit, he also returns the wish, bestowing luck on Hyunjin _way_ before _seollal._  

But other than that, it sort of becomes an awkward train wreck, because he is very uncomfortable with emotions and he cannot compute nice gestures in any way, shape or form that is appropriate. 

Hyunjin’s face crumbles. “Do you - do you not like -” 

He steels himself, grounds his soles to the floor underneath, tries to get his breathing under control. _Blanks out a little. Forgets to breathe in._

 “No, no, stop that look,” he coughs, “it’s - it’s very unexpected,” he settles with. 

“Is that, like, bad unexpected or good?”

He can’t look at Hyunjin. His heart has climbed its way to his eardrums and all he can hear is his own blood roaring loud enough to drown the murmur of Hyunjin’s hesitant words. 

“Nothing you give can ever be bad,” he hacks out another roundabout answer. “It’s - I - I’m sorry. I accept your gift, but I have to go.” 

Hyunjin could barely grasp his coat before he takes off, head hammering with the pulse screaming inside of his skull.

  _Home home home home home -_  

The damnable basket smells like home and all the new years that he missed and he’s not breaking down in the hallways of cold Hogwarts in January where half the school isn’t here. _But he is._  

He fumbles with a bag, undoing the thread, and breaks about twenty thousand fortune cookies under his clumsy hands. 

“This is so symbolic of my life,” he mumbles as the shards of fortune cookies spill out of the bag. “Are you going to tell me everything’s fine now, too?” 

_Hi,_ a note reads, _these are Grandmother’s inscriptions,_ _she insisted on me delivering these first thing to you, but it doesn’t matter if you got to it last or first, everything’s inside. Hope you enjoy, Hyunjin xx_  

There are duplicates of the same three idioms. 뜻이 있는 곳에 길이 있다. _Where there is a will, there is a road_ . 손바닥으로 하늘을 가리려한다. _Don't try to cover the whole sky with the palm of your hand_ . 등잔 밑이 어둡다. _It’s dark under the lamp._  

They are saying something, but he’s not quite sure _what_ exactly are they implying, or just outright pointing out. His head’s a mess and he can’t think straight and to boot it all up, he probably just made Hyunjin cry, first meeting back from the last time the brat cried he’s such a moron - 

All of this, for him. A piece of something very Korea, to him. 

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he tells the pieces of handwritten fortunes, “you spend quite a lot of time and effort for me. It’s almost excessive. It’s almost suggestive of something.” 

He glances back down at the _hangul._ Back at his hands, still clutching the basket. _It’s dark under the lamp._  

_What is dark under the idiomatic lamp though? Is there a lamp, what -_  

“Hyung!” He hears distantly, footsteps thundering at him. “Are you alright?” 

Changbin looks up, into those eyes that really, he’s been staring at for too long here and there, and the moles that when his lids take away sight, he can see the shape of them still. 

It hit him like a stray curse gone wrong, right to the face. 

“Oh shit,” he chokes out. _This_ **_is_ ** _the idiomatic lamp. Not good not good not good nope nope why now -_  

“Just - okay, we’re both panicking, uh, uh,” Hyunjin flings his arms about, and catches his wrists, pressing fingertips to the inside of  Changbin’s wrists. “Just - look me in the eye. You can’t hear anything else. Breathe with me.” 

Changbin wants to kick him, then tackle him in the most smothering hug he can possibly execute, because _that’s the last thing I want, looking into your stupid eyes and semi-holding hands with ya!_  

He gurgles out something that might’ve been _please let go of me_ and Hyunjin releases his wrists, fidgeting loud enough by his squat next to Changbin that he has half a mind to scold him. 

Hell, why not. 

“Oi,” he rasps, “stop with the fidgeting.”

_“I want to help,”_ Hyunjin grits out, violently attempting to gouge out a hole in the foundation with the tip of his boots.

“Try to breathe,” he reminds gently.

“No, _you_ try to breathe. I got nothing for me to worry about. _You’re_ the guy who took off with my new year’s gift. _You_ were shaking and nearly crying before. _You_ do all the meditative activities and leave little old normal paranoid me alone.” Hyunjin gnashes back, a hint of hostility in between the hiss of his teeth, but it’s all a mask, to counter the worry seeping from his skin. 

Merlin, Changbin’s really the worst, isn't he?

“I’m,” he looks down at the mess of cookies, “going through many emotions, and being around you has historically not been very successful in processing those emotions.” 

Hyunjin makes a wounded animal sound. Like a kicked puppy. Exactly like a kicked and whining puppy. 

“Plus,” he pauses, “there are, like, these _revelations._ Now I’m going through it all.” 

“What kinda revelations?” Hyunjin gestures to the debris all about them. “My grandmother opened your third eye and now you’re a better seer than Jisung will ever be? Or did she riddle you to the extent that you’re now spiralling towards the pit of insanity -”

 Changbin smacks Hyunjin’s knee swiftly. 

“Shut up.” He takes in a breath. Why not. “And I kinda love you. For a while now. For ages. That’s the revelation.” 

There is a pause. 

All Hyunjin could really managed is an undignified squawk of _Why now?_ and the rest is drowned out by Changbin’s continuing speech. Now is not Hyunjin's time to be rambling. It's deservedly Changbin's. Let him yap, Merlin’s graces. 

“I, just, yeah, I love you, but not like, in love with you. It’s possibly not that life-committing. I, just, attraction. Yes.” 

He really wants to slap himself in the face and just turn into a koala and emigrate the heck to Australia so he never has to deal with feelings ever again.

“That’s great and all, but why now and here?” Hyunjin frowns. 

Changbin panics. It must've shown on his face, because Hyunjin quickly amends, hands twirling all about his face. 

“Did you have to do it here? Can we go somewhere else where it’s cleaner and warmer?” 

Changbin gets up, but not without complaints. 

“Okay, first of all, fuck you, I shared all my heartfelt feelings to you-” 

“And I appreciate it, but I'm also freezing, so I'm not processing much besides _I'm cold_ and _we on the floor_ ,” he quips back, shivering lightly. “I'm also kinda pissed that you just left after I wished you happy new year with my hamper of gifts may I remind you. So rude.”

The curl of his upper lip tells Changbin that he's more upset than anything, and his stomach twists. Okay, feelings of romantic inclinations or not, this is Hwang Hyunjin, and he's Changbin's friend before anything else and right now he's being very _very_ terrible as a friend, and as a human being. 

“Let's go somewhere else,” Changbin concedes, a hand stretched out, a habit, a conditioned response. He always does this to Hyunjin and Hyunjin - 

The other boy clasps his hands, fingers tangling messily in his. 

Hyunjin would always come with him, cling tight to him. Enough to hurt and enough to say he's there.

 

Many things have happened, but none of them can amount up to Changbin’s out of nowhere Hey So I Love You For Ages and Your Seollal Gifts Prompted This Impromptu Confession Have A Nice Day. 

It is _so_ not appreciated.

He's not having _revelations_ to the scale Changbin's going through, per se, but it just seems natural that they would just progress and be however they want to be. He's blind to wants as opposed to needs. He doesn't know precisely what Changbin wants at this moment in time, but what he needs, since long ago, to have a companion who's undoubtedly loyal and devoted, had long since been answered. Him. Hyunjin. Hyunjin is the answer to that want. 

Jisung did tell him that it sounded exceptionally like a marriage vow. Hyunjin had told him, _huh, I suppose it does._

And that had been it. He's oblivious to a fault, but he has ears still, the only sense not failing him, and he had heard all the hitches of breath and the softening tone when he's spoken to by Changbin. He's blind, but it doesn't mean he can't hear the very _there_ note of interest and fondness in everything Changbin does regarding him, Hwang Hyunjin. 

It's a heavenly miracle that Changbin coughed the confession out, because Hyunjin only needs one succinct statement regarding the situation for him to affirm the sights to the sounds and regard the whole picture. And he would just acknowledge that he is blind, accept how things are and move on with the facts. Piecing it altogether, to conclude that, yes, there are feelings and he's going to accept them. It has always been Changbin Changbin Changbin on the record Hyunjin spins. It has always been Changbin and nobody else. 

It seems that he had known for a long time. He just hasn't been shown the proof that he does know, or that Changbin reciprocates. It's a bit of a shock, to be hit with all of it now, but he's fine. He's going to accept his suppressed feelings and not spring into a manic spree trying to toss between the conscious mind and the subconscious understanding that he does have the Gay Feelings for his closest friend. 

Unlike somebody here who did just that. Seriously. What a drama queen. 

Changbin seats him down at the sill by the window, common room fire blazing, students streaming in and out of dorms and armchairs. Nobody bat an eye at them, hands clasped, _as they always have,_ at the sill. In fact, Hyunjin remembers suddenly, people were staring when they _weren't_ holding hands. 

Ah gee. He was really out there being oblivious and not see that on top of everything, the school _ships_ them. How, how could he not see the interested gazes of onlookers who cheer whenever Hyunjin in his natural overly affectionate self makes contact with Changbin? How did he not take an extra step back and ponder the significance of the whispers of _changjin?_ That's a ship name right? They were being shipped together, right? 

Might as well change his name to Blind Until Told About The Fact That He Has Eyes and He Should _Look_ At Stuff Long Enough To Process Facts. 

“You're looking a bit pale,” Changbin flicks a lazy eye to his cheek, grazing dark eyes to his. He jolts a little, peering back, trying to get everything under control. It's not _fair_ , alright, Changbin having good eyes. And an unconventional face. Everything is making Hyunjin's insides all soft and disgusting and performing all sorts of tumbling acrobatic under skin and he really really wants to throw himself at the ground and screech.

 “I'm always pale,” he counters. 

Changbin's face is pulled into an immediate frown. “Yeah _no shit._ But you were looking a bit sick before. Hypothermia kinda pale. I was -” 

“-worried,” he cuts in. Smiles. It was a genuine tug of lips. His eyes might have sparkled. “I know you always worry, hyung.” 

“Your eyes are sparkling,” Changbin notes, all casual like he's commenting on Quidditch or lead concentration in a mixture.

“Thanks,” he grins. “I think I've been looking at you this way for years.” 

The other boy freezes all over and chokes, all loud and clear. 

Then Changbin throws away his hands and throws himself at the ground, this embarrassingly loud noise erupting out of his chest. 

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Changbin covers his face, voice muffled. “How long did you know?”

“You might have to be more specific, hyung, I know lots of stuff,” he swiftly evades the kick. “No, _oi,_ I was being serious. Is this the feelings question or the sexuality question?” 

“Nobody here gives a fuck who you like. We literally worship the Jisung-Chan couple union.” 

“Then...officially, I'd say when you just told me, but really, I could always hear that lil' something in your voice since fourth year.” His eyes crinkle, taking away one mole. “Guess I’ve been looking at you since that or longer too. I don’t really keep track of what I do, I just, sorta do ‘em.” 

“You're a menace,” Changbin tells him.

He grins, all fluttery and pterodactyls screeching inside. “Guess I am, huh.” 

Changbin flips to face the ceiling, blinking severely, like he's trying to deteriorate his eyesight by sheer force of blinking alone. 

“I don't know what to do now,” he confesses.

“You don't have to do anything,” Hyunjin murmurs. “This shouldn't change anything.” 

“It kinda does.” 

“Hyung, seriously, you're panicking. It's fine on my end. I'm happy with whatever you want to do from now. Keep things as they are, give you time to think about everything, forget it ever happen - I'm alright with it all.” He isn't fine with everything his traitorous mouth suggested, but he has lived in a permanent state of prioritising Changbin before himself under all circumstances, a habit by now, something intrinsic in his bones. 

It’s a sort of personal motto since forever. _If Changbin is happy, then I’ll be happy._  

“That shouldn’t be right?” Changbin collects himself, gathering into a sitting stance. “How are you excluding yourself from this equation? It concerns you too.” 

“You know, hyungie,” he covers his twitching left eye with his palm, sudden tears threatening to fall. “People tell me I make the decisions in this friendship, but I really think I take into account what you need and act them out in your behalf. Whatever you want, I’ll be more than happy to abide by your decision.” 

A rustle. A hand by his chin. He’s not crying, but he’s close. 

“You know, kid,” Changbin grips his elbow, sitting close, yet they’re not touching, “you never let me ask you what you want for Christmas.”

“I don’t want anything,” he pouts. 

“Yet you want everything for me,” Changbin exhales in a slow breath. “Sounds like, what is it that Jeongin and you say? Sounds like Love Activity to me.”

 “Well,” he mutters, “I am the slightest bit fond of you.” 

“What a dirty liar,” Changbin teases. “You’ll be turned into something unsavoury tomorrow.” 

“You’re a bully,” he mumbles, “and you do not deserve my love.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m too good for you.” 

He hears the slightest snort. 

“Debatable, but we’re all entitled to wrong opinions now and then,” Hyunjin swings his arm and hits a shoulder. Changbin keels and falls like a particularly heavy tree in a forest, toppling over onto hard ground. He hit the floor with a _thud,_ wheezing more out of surprise than pain. 

Hyunjin is very satisfied. 

“Ha! Serves you right!”

 “This is such a violent way of expressing love,”  Changbin wheezes, patting to see if he’s still got everything intact. “And I’m going to get up now, and we’re not going to panic or run away.” 

At first Hyunjin can only see the top of the boy’s head. Then forehead, messy bangs, uneven eyebrows, big nose, large chin, dark eyes, trembling lips. 

He sees himself in Changbin’s eyes. It’s the only thing that swallows up all of the little spheres in the socket. 

Ah _gee_. 

That’s really taking _you’re the only one I see_ to the physical manifestation sense. Changbin with his sharp eyes, Changbin with his crooked glasses that _he’s not wearing,_ Changbin who relies on his eyes the most out of every other sense - Changbin who willingly let himself be surrounded by only Hyunjin in those eyes which are his livelihoods. 

Just. Changbin. Seo Changbin. Biggest denier this side of the world. Seo _I actually don't know why I have feelings for you Hyunjin despite me acting like I've loved you since three years ago_ Changbin. 

“What do you want from this, Hyunjin?” 

He has the answer since fourth, third, second, first year -

“I want to try, at whatever this will be. I want to be with you, no matter what shape or form it will be. I want so much, Seo Changbin, but I want to be with you, above all else, but that is selfish of me to ask -”

Changbin leans in, peels his hand away from his eye, and pinches the tip of his nose. He flinches, voice coming out garbled. 

_“Let go.”_  

“Not until you stop being stupid,” Changbin tells him calmly, which isn’t fair, because he was freaking out before. “I can’t believe you panicking overrode my own panicking.” 

“It’s a terrible curse,” Hyunjin intones mirthlessly. “Excessive Selfless Overdrive When Others Are Seen Uncomfortable.”

 “We can work something out. You look out for me, I look out for you. We'll work something out.” 

“This is quite possibly the most unconventional confessions I’ve ever received,” he sniffs, letting himself be dragged into a head hug (really, he's not quite sure what it _is_ actually) - Changbin tucks himself into his neck, hands under his jaw and behind his neck, chest draping over his shoulder, like a particularly adorable 167 cm blanket with a lot of bony bumps. 

“You can’t exactly tell me to take leave of my words or actions here, romantic addict,” Changbin tells the skin of his neck. 

“That’s a compliment, may I remind you - oh Merlin, people, let go, _people are comin_ -!” He hisses, trying to wring Changbin off him. 

Minho and Woojin, from the portrait opening, don’t even bat an eye between the two of them at a frankly very compromising lover’s embrace.

Nobody really say anything for a while. 

“Hi,” he greets, all awkward and stiff. “How can we help.” _Please go away._  

“Just following the cookie crumb trail ~” Minho singsongs, not coming any closer. 

“The _what_ trail?” He frowns. 

“The fortune cookie trail. Do you have food? I heard you got food,” Minho sights the gift hamper, grin slicing up one side of his face. “Can we -”

_“No!”_ Hyunjin screeches at the same time as Changbin disengages from him and throws Minho into this body tackle, with Woojin sidestepping easily, hands in his long cardigan. 

“How was your holiday visit, Hyunjinnie?” He asks pleasantly, overtly ignoring the tussle behind him. “Did your family love their gifts?” 

“Yes!” He perks up. “They love everything. They also told me to say hi to everyone and we made _yakshik_ for the squad. Also, _sebae_ packets from grandmother and lucky charms from father. It’s super festive.” He grins, easy now that everything hasn’t changed and it's nothing out of the ordinary. _Seo Changbin just panics too much._  

“How come Changbin gets a basket and I get a packet?” Minho complains, trespassing clearly in another house’s common room. 

“Because he’s clearly my favourite and in this world, he wins the favouritism game,” he explains belatedly. “Try harder next time. Engage each other in heavenly combat. Fight for my favour.” 

“Fight me right now, Changbinnie,” Minho declares, turning to a rumpled Changbin.   

“You're a twig. You'll break if I look at you for too long. I automatically win by default. Don't play this game. Don't even think of it,” Changbin rolls his eyes, exasperated. 

More voices squabble outside of the Hufflepuff portrait and a stream of people _who aren't from Hufflepuff_ flood in, cheering as they see the basket of food. 

Changbin waves his wand and it disappears into thin air. Chan skids to a stop, gaping. Jeongin boos at him. Tzuyu lobs at pencil at his head. 

“Chou, why the hell are you carrying pencils around in your handbag - you know what, forget I ask, sit down, bastards, I'll bring out more food,” Changbin waves his wand again, summoning Hyunjin's bigger package of all the _seollal_ food. That Hyunjin had mentioned in passing. That shouldn't have much significance if Changbin hasn't heard his conversation with Woojin. That shouldn't be noticed, as a principle, but _did._  

It's sounding like Marriage Couple Activity to him. 

“Can we eat?” Chan, who has human decency, asks first, hands hovering in front of the _yakshik._  

“Dig in, dig in,” Hyunjin laughs, fluttering his hands at the food, content to just watching them. “I made them for you guys. Knock yourself out.” 

“Ey,” Felix begins picking up _jeon._ “Happy new year, everyone.” 

“Happy new year,” the rest chorus back, stuffing themselves with food. Seungmin, despite ransacking his fridge just last week, contents with stuffing the inside of his mouth with as many _jeonggwa_ as he can, downing them all with _sanjoin_ extract tea brewed with chrysanthemum. 

Changbin leans over, a parcel in his hand. Their fingers knock, and Hyunjin thinks both too much and too little of what this means now, in light of recent events.

“For you.” He says simply. 

Hyunjin shakes it. It sounds...heavy. Like a book. Like a journal. 

He unwraps the parcel, one of Changbin’s notebook sitting in the palm of his hands.

 Changbin’s notebooks, the ones that pile up with poems about someone, a love that he doesn't name and songs and _shijo_. Minho opened the notebooks once, looking at random pages. There was a scary consistency across everything.

 It’s addressed to a _you_ that have pronouns he and him. Someone who Changbin has many strong feelings for. Not just love. Like, twenty billion variations of the emotion and feeling and action that is more than the word ‘love.’ 

“Merlin’s beard, boy,” Minho told him. “You thinking of marriage vows or something to this guy?” 

“What? No. It’s just, some stuff I was thinking about. Why? Are the phrases weird?” Changbin looked over at the page, frown in place. 

“They’re absolutely fine, Changbinnie. Intense, but fine. Keep writing. Never stop.”

It's not like it's a big secret among their friend group. Minho loves gossiping just as much as he loves dragons, so he didn't really complain when he was told of the specifics of what went on in Changbin's writing sessions. Who he loves has no significant relevance to Hyunjin, who will be happy with what Changbin tells him when the time comes. 

It comes as a complete surprise though. He certainly doesn't know that it's for him, but somewhere, somehow, when their eyes meet, he did realise he was a part of the pages somewhere. 

Not like this though. 

_One gift alone you did not leave behind,_

_The very last I ever gave to you,_

_When, having nothing left of love to give,_

_I pointed to the autumn's amber moon._

_" –and this," I said, " shall be my gift to you."_

_Now, night by night, I watch the sky alone,_

_Thinking perhaps to see your shadow hands_

_Outstretched to touch that shadow gift of mine._

“Christmas,” Changbin murmurs, “and when we had that fight.” 

“So when you were being stupid,” he reiterates, snickering to stop the pterodactyl noise from emerging again. Changbin digs fingers into his ribs.

_A meeting of friends in the mountains_

_Now, with my feet upon the bridge of jade,_

_I pause, I falter, speechless gaze at you._

_How may our spirits meet?_  

“And this?” 

“I was looking at you, I think, practicing for Quidditch. Or watering plants. Or swimming. I stared at you a lot. I wrote so much after we went and healed the tree,” Changbin looks down at the page and back up at Hyunjin. “I honestly wrote a haiku about a meme in here but I couldn't find it so I just stuffed the whole book in.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Shut up. My subconscious betrayed me.” 

“Your subconscious is a gift to the world and me,” he grins, eyes crinkling. “Now, let's get on with -”

Changbin completely chokes on thin air at the page he stumbles on.

_I drew a picture of my love and placed it beside my pillow_

_Sitting, standing, I touch it fondly and say:_

_Love, speak to me, I do not know where to put my heart_

_Shall I relinquish it all to you?_

_Love, speak to me, I do not know where to put my heart_

_For I gave it all to you._  

“I think that,” Changbin recovers from his extensive coughing fit. “I've loved you for a while. Been in love with you for just as long.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Hyunjin races fingertips on the words, all delicate _hanja._ Changbin's mouth drops open in affront. He continues speaking. “Me too. I've been in love with you long before I realised it too, because it comes natural to me.” 

Changbin shuts his jaw with an embarrassing loud click.

“Just take the damn book, Hwang.” 

“Aww, are you blushing? Should I send you love letters everyday? Sonnets under the stars? Haikus about your hair, which, I love, by the way,” he ribs, knocking arms and elbows and hands everywhere with Changbin who's all flesh and bones and there. 

“You're such a lousy prat, Hwang,” Changbin scolds, moving away. “No haikus. I'm the haiku person in this relationship.”

“Boring~” 

“I'll _boring_ you, brat,” he taps knuckles on top of Hyunjin's forehead who scrunches his eyes tightly. 

His bangs are brushed aside by a rough palm. Something soft and warm grazes his skin and his eyes spring open. 

That can't be - 

His eyes, blown up wide, along with his cheeks, tint dark red. 

_“Yah, Seo Changbin, get back here!”_  

Tzuyu can be heard complaining that there's no Chinese food for her. Chan promptly falls asleep against Jisung. Felix gathers them all for a polaroid, magicked up, of course, so all their bickering is saved in that one copy.

In the middle, Hyunjin is wrestling Changbin, with feigned fury at the other boy who laughs open mouthed, eyes shut. 

Tzuyu tells them that it's ridiculously disgusting. Jisung congratulates them on their marriage.

 Outside, a swallow trills at the group of rowdy children and takes off in the fading daylight while light sprays of rain drizzles onto the roof of the castle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want notes on the korean superstitions stuff please let me know and if i got it wrong, Please Let Me Know, i only had google to rely on
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED SOME DECENT CHANGJIN FOOD. UNTIL MY NAME IS REVEALED, I WISH YOU A HAPPY BREAK


End file.
